Author: richardbrook@bruckfamilyblog.com

POST 162: FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S CORRESPONDENCE WITH MARCELLE RIVIER, HIS ONETIME GIRLFRIEND

Note: A stash of 60 letters written between January 1940 and June 1946 by my father’s first cousin Fedor Löwenstein to Marcelle Rivier, an accomplished artist and erstwhile girlfriend, was donated to Paris’ Institut national d’histoire de l’art (INHA). These letters form the basis of a two-part article written by Jérôme Delatour from INHA about the artist’s life during this period and the depressive climate of the Nazi Occupation. I synopsize some of M. Delatour’s discussions which augment what I’ve previously written about Fedor.

 

Related Posts:

POST 160: UPDATE ON COMPENSATION CLAIM AGAINST THE FRENCH MINISTRY OF CULTURE INVOLVING NAZI-CONFISCATED FAMILY ART

POST 161: FATE OR COINCIDENCE? THE FLEA MARKET FIND OF FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN PHOTOGRAPHS

 

With so much of today’s interpersonal communications taking place via email, texts, social media, etc., I often consider that future genealogists and historians may not have written correspondence available to them to round out their understanding of people they study, whether they be ancestors or not. Absent contemporary letters, unless diaries are found, it may be difficult for researchers to develop a complete picture of their subjects nor the ordeals they confronted. Similarly, with so many of today’s pictures being stored in the cloud, it is fair to wonder how many of these images will be printed and survive. With this in mind, any time I gain access to a cache of letters and pictures left behind by one of my relatives, particularly when they were renowned, it is cause for celebration.

The contents of this post are drawn primarily from a two-part article written by Jérôme Delatour, Service du Patrimoine, Heritage Service, Institut national d’histoire de l’art (INHA), Library of the National Institute of Art History in Paris. Entitled “Paint, paint, PAINT!,” the articles detail the content of some letters the accomplished family painter Fedor Löwenstein (Figure 1), my father’s first cousin, sent to Marcelle Rivier, his erstwhile girlfriend between 1939 and October-November 1943. The letters run from January 30, 1940, to June 21, 1946. Marcelle Rivier was a very talented painter in her own right. (Figure 2)

 

Figure 1. Fedor Löwenstein in Mirmande in the Drôme in the 1930s

 

Figure 2. A Marcelle Rivier painting of Fedor Löwenstein

 

Readers are reminded that the previous two posts, Posts 160 and 161, largely dealt with Fedor Löwenstein.

The National Institute for Art History (INHA) was created in 2001 for the purpose of consolidating and promoting research in art history and heritage studies. Its main mission is the advancement of scholarly research and international cooperation in the field. It sets up research and educational programs as well as activities for the dissemination of knowledge that serve both art historians and the general public.
With its library, the INHA also provides a unique collection of resources and documentation in this field. The Institute is run jointly by the French Ministry of Higher Education and Research and the French Ministry of Culture.

The letters that were the source of the two-part article written by Jérôme Delatour were donated to the INHA in January 2016 by Danièlle and Bernard Sapet, owners of the Sapet Gallery in Valence, France. The collection consists of sixty letters signed by Fedor Löwenstein, 58 of them addressed to Marcelle Rivier and two to unknown recipients. The Sapets came into possession of these letters because of their association with Marcelle Rivier (1906-1986) when they assisted her in the final years of her life when she lived in Mirmande in the Drôme department of southeastern France. (Figure 3) Today the Sapets are the custodians of her house in Mirmande and of the artist’s archives.

 

Figure 3. Postcard of Mirmande in Drôme in southern France

 

Fedor Löwenstein’s letters to Marcelle Rivier provide details on some of the events discussed in earlier posts. Let me briefly review Fedor and Marcelle’s lives, then provide relevant background drawn from the letters.

Fedor Löwenstein was born in Munich in 1901 but was of Czechoslovakian extraction. He was part of the vast movement of Eastern European artists who made their way to Paris attracted by the cultural influence of the city. Before immigrating to France in 1923, Löwenstein had studied at the School of Decorative Arts in Berlin, then at the Academy of Fine Arts in Dresden.

The Eastern European artists contributed to the brilliance of the so-called École de Paris, the “School of Paris”; in reality, this name does not refer to any school that really existed, but rather to the movement which brought together artists who contributed to making Paris the focus of artistic creation between the two world wars. It was in this rich artistic context that Löwenstein painted and drew.

In Paris he mixed with and became a student of the painter André Lhote (1885-1962) from Bordeaux. He exhibited at the Salon des Surindépendants before joining the “Groupe des Surindépendants” in 1936. The Salon and the Artistic Association of the Sur-Independents were founded in the autumn of 1928 by a few artists who no longer wanted an admission jury and questioned the restrictions imposed by the new regulations of the Salon des Indépendants promulgated in 1924.

Löwenstein’s early works were marked by the influence of cubism, whose main representatives worked in Paris, although his subsequent productions evolved towards abstraction (Figure 4), probably under the influence of André Lhote. In 1938, he painted “La Chute” (The Fall) (Figure 5), inspired by the signing of the Munich Agreement that dismantled then-Czechoslovakia that had been created in 1918. The composition and symbolism in the work are reminiscent of the convulsed and screaming silhouettes of Picasso’s Guernica, a lofty comparison.

 

Figure 4. Fedor Löwenstein’s abstract painting entitled “La Fenêtre,” The Window

 

Figure 5. Fedor Löwenstein’s painting “La Chute” (The Fall), marking the dismantling of Czechoslovakia as a result of the Munich Agreement

 

Marcelle Rivier, Fedor’s future girlfriend, was French though she grew up in Argentina; she was characterized as a woman of “fiery temperament.” She was a saleswoman in an art gallery in Buenos Aires in 1924, a model from 1930 to 1934, a music-hall dancer in 1935, but above all a painter. (Figure 6) In the 1930s, she exhibited at the Salon d’Automne and the Salon des Tuileries. During the Occupation, she was a member of the Resistance, often exhibiting great carelessness and recklessness, according to Jérôme Delatour.

 

Figure 6. Marcelle Rivier at one of her exhibitions

 

Marcelle Rivier arrived in Paris in 1928 and studied at the Léger and Julian academies. Like Löwenstein, she was a student of André Lhote and enrolled in his course. During the summer, he took his students to Mirmande in the Drôme, where the painter had settled in 1926.

In 1936, Marcelle Rivier married the well-respected journalist Ferdinand Auberjonois (1910-2004), though the marriage was short-lived. After a short stay in New York, she returned to Paris in 1938 and it was then that she met Löwenstein. At the time, Fedor was still involved with Doris Halphen, whom I introduced to readers in Post 161. However, by November 1939, Marcelle and Fedor were romantically involved, a tumultuous affair that lasted until October-November 1943. (Figure 7)

 

Figure 7. Marcelle Rivier and Fedor Löwenstein with Fedor’s mother, my great-aunt Hedwig Fedor Löwenstein, née Bruck

 

Let me now turn to the contents of some of Fedor Löwenstein’s letters

In a letter addressed to Marcelle Rivier dated the 11th of May 1940, Fedor Löwenstein wrote to her about the 25 paintings that are the subject of my restitution and repatriation claim against the French Ministry of Culture. In the spring of 1940, when he had to flee Paris as quickly as possible in the face of the advancing German army, Fedor nonetheless took the time to package and ship the 25 works of art for an exhibition to be held at the Nierendorf Gallery in New York. He wrote: “It is only on Monday that I will know if my paintings are leaving, or if I should abandon this dream. I had a bad feeling.” Löwenstein was right. As I’ve told readers in previous posts, his crates were seized on December 5, 1940, at the port of Bordeaux, and shipped to the Jeu des Paume in Paris, where most were torn to shreds with knives, then burned during the month of July 1943

Fedor Löwenstein was apparently back in Paris before the Nazis entered the city on the 14th of June 1940 but left the capital at the last minute for Mirmande.

In April 1941, Fedor left Mirmande to go to Nice to see his mother and sister who lived there, and in the vague hope of embarking for Mexico. In a scene that must have been oft repeated across Europe wherever Jews seeking to escape the Nazis waited for travel visas, Löwenstein wrote on the 24th of April 1941, of the gloomy and depressive atmosphere:

“On the Promenade des Anglais, where the spinach-green uniforms of German and Italian officers clash with the monotonous-azure blue, Jews from all over the world await the messiah in the form of an affidavit. The corpses are well dressed, they have only been able to save this and 20 marks and there are not 36 ways to escape the debacle. From time to time I meet an old acquaintance, thrown from the bottom of the sea by the tidal wave, we shake hands, and we are hardly surprised to see each other here – and besides, what is the point – and where? Get the hell out of here! But Lena, who was here for a few days (Lena is my Polish friend who lives in Marseille) wired [sic] to Hollywood so that [I] could go to Mexico. I will let myself be taken away, but I do not ‘feel’ my departure. . .”

In a letter from the 30th of April 1940, he writes:

“It is curious, all the same, this atmosphere of the morning coffee, this idleness in front of a piece of white paper and more umbrellas in front of the window of the café in a minute than all year on the square of the Champs de Mars in Mirmande. It smells of dampness, damp clothes, the smell of cooking, cat pee, and the national coffee. Apart from that, I have never been able to appreciate this ‘pearl of the Mediterranean’”

The above characterizations sounds very Kafkaesque.

Seemingly having been unable to obtain the affidavit necessary to immigrate to Mexico, and having nothing more to do in Nice, Löwenstein resolved to meet Marcelle Rivier in Mirmande in late 1941 and keep a low profile. Hence the interruption in letters between December 23, 1941, and June 4, 1943. However, the Nazi invasion on the 11th of November 1942, of the previously unoccupied zone of France, the southern part of the country where the Vichy regime operated, forced Fedor further into hiding. On a full moon night in February 1943, Marcelle Rivier evacuated him from Mirmande, disguised as a peasant woman. He went to Cliousclat where he was taken in by Mena Loopuyt (1902-1991), a Dutch painter, then hidden in the Abbey of Aiguebelle.

Löwenstein complained bitterly about the soul-sucking (my words) work that was required of him for protection by the monks. He was expected to contribute to the beautification of the monastery. He writes in a letter dated the 30th of September 1943:

“The work that has been stuck with me this time is so disgusting that I wonder how I will do it, having accepted the fruit jellies as an advance. Imagine tile plates on which, in relief, a nymph is picking flowers. All of this is the purest new style, but so disgusting as a ‘spirit’ and as a material that one must, I think, beat the sole throughout South America to find one’s equal. And I must color them. Yesterday I told Father A[bbé] that if I asked them to sing songs from the guardroom at the basilica, it would have the same effect on them as it would on me to ‘paint’ it.”

In what Jérôme Delatour characterizes as a “source of much pain and self-sacrifice,” Löwenstein was commissioned to paint the portrait of the abbot. The abbot was not at all pleased with the result, perhaps upset by the theft of 53 bottles of liquor from the abbey, exclaiming: “this is not my skin, not my eyes, I’m not so fat, what is this bosse (bump) on my head!” (30th of September 1943) Admittedly, the portrait of the abbot is not very flattering. (Figure 8)

 

Figure 8. Fedor Löwenstein’s unflattering portrait of the abbot of the Abbey of Aiguebelle

 

Löwenstein’s letters of love and war reflect a self-awareness that as a Jew and a Czechoslovakian he was “doubly undesirable in the new Europe of the early 1940s.” On May 27, 1940, he wrote, “virtually all Czechoslovakia have been in a concentration camp with one foot. But the other, my good leg, is still at large. . .this morning at the consulate we were told we must provide letters written by Frenchmen, vouching for our entire loyalty to France.”

Löwenstein’s legitimate concerns were affirmed with the enactment by the Vichy regime of “The Law of 4 October 1940 regarding foreign nationals of the Jewish race,” which authorized and organized the internment of foreign Jews and marked the beginning of the policy of collaboration of the Vichy regime with Nazi Germany’s plans for the extermination of the Jews of Europe.

All Löwenstein’s letters mention his health problems: “slight itching, general weakness, sweating, without making me feel ‘really ill’’’ (8 January 1944), which spoke to the “enemy within.” Realizing he needed to be seen by a specialist, using the alias “Lauriston,” he traveled to Paris in November 1943. A blood test confirmed he was suffering from Hodgkin lymphoma, a blood cancer that primarily affects the lymphatic system and that was incurable at the time.

His nighttime description of occupied Paris is haunting:

“Going out in Paris at night is a bit tricky, especially when it’s raining like last night. Imagine when you get out of the subway, that you are immersed in black ink, indelible and absolute. Little by little, you can see around you other shadows that have come out of hell and are waiting like you for the moment when they ‘see’. . .Finally, the shadows, in groups, leave, feel the void, pierce the darkness, fall, rise, collide and arrive as if by a miracle, just like ants underground by instinct, in front of the theatre.” (26 November 1943)

Löwenstein spent the whole of 1944 in Paris, miraculously unmolested by the Nazis. His letters to Marcelle Rivier were rare at the time, as the couple had broken up in the autumn of 1943, although it’s possible that any letters from this period have disappeared. According to Jérôme Delatour, apart from a greeting card at the end of the year, there were no letters in 1945, and only two in 1946.

As Jérôme Delatour suggests, in his letters Fedor Löwenstein passionately captured a sense of the period’s depressive climate, the moral dissolution that accompanied the fall of France following the country’s rapid capitulation to Germany, and the time of the Occupation, dominated by material concerns and the price of and access to food. Even though the dangers were very real, Fedor’s letters seem almost to have distilled them to down-to-earth questions: “The valley is just a box full of dirty cotton. . .Everything froze and for the pockets of the people of Mirmande, a cauliflower at 4.50 is too expensive. We live on pasta, noodles and macaroni. . .For a vegetarian of my talent, it’s almost starvation. Already.” (Mirmande, 27 March 1940) Expectedly, rationing also affected the availability of art supplies.

Given his deteriorating condition and the Nazis changing fortunes in 1944-1945, following his departure from Paris, Fedor likely returned to Nice to spend his remaining days with his mother and sister. (Figure 9) The last words in his last letter to Marcelle Rivier were “Do you continue to paint?” (Nice, 21 June 1946) In this letter he also announced that he would be having a major exhibition in Cannes to coincide with the film festival there in September. Löwenstein was hospitalized on August 4, 1946, and died soon thereafter. (Figure 10) The first Cannes Film Festival opened on September 20th. Marcelle Rivier continued to paint until her death in 1986.

 

Figure 9. Fedor Löwenstein with his sister Jeanne Goff, née Löwenstein and his mother Hedwig in a photo taken in Nice, France after the war, probably shortly before his death

 

Figure 10. Fedor Löwenstein’s “acte de décès,” or death certificate, showing he died in Nice, France on August 4, 1946

 

REFERENCES

Delatour, Jérôme. (2018 April 3).  “Paint, paint, PAINT!” (1/2). Bibliothèque de l’Institut national d’histoire de l’art. Institut national d’histoire de l’art – INHA

Delatour, Jérôme. (2018 April 5).  “Paint, paint, PAINT!” (2/2). Bibliothèque de l’Institut national d’histoire de l’art.

https://blog.bibliotheque.inha.fr/fr/posts/peindre-peindre-peindre-2-2.html

POST 161: FATE OR COINCIDENCE? THE FLEA MARKET FIND OF FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN PHOTOGRAPHS

Note: In this post, I briefly consider the philosophical question whether the chance discovery of family photographs of my father’s first cousin Fedor Löwenstein found in a Paris flea market was fated or coincidental. The circumstances under which the event occurred was so improbable that a small part of me wonders if it was not predestined.

Related Posts:

POST 21: MY AUNT SUSANNE MÜLLER, NÉE BRUCK, & HER HUSBAND DR. FRANZ MÜLLER, THE FIESOLE YEARS

POST 35: FATE OF SOME JEWISH GUESTS WHO STAYED AT THE VILLA PRIMAVERA (FIESOLE, ITALY), 1937-1938

POST 105: FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN ‘S NAZI-CONFISCATED ART: RESTITUTION DENIED

POST 160: UPDATE ON COMPENSATION CLAIM AGAINST THE FRENCH MINISTRY OF CULTURE INVOLVING NAZI-CONFISCATED FAMILY ART

 

In several earlier posts, I’ve mentioned my friend Ms. Madeleine Isenberg (Figure 1) who volunteers at the Jewish Genealogical Society of Los Angeles assisting members doing ancestral research. Madeleine once wrote an article for a periodical entitled “Avotaynu” detailing one of her research endeavors. She quoted her English uncle who claimed there is no such thing as coincidence, it’s all “beshert,” a Hebrew word for predestination or fate. My father Dr. Otto Bruck would have agreed with him.

 

Figure 1. Madeleine Isenberg and me in 2016

 

While I claim no adherence to this notion, I’ve come across several instances while doing ancestral research that make me think there may be an element of fate at work. Or, could it be as Branch Rickey, the brainy former General Manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers, once said that “Luck is the residue of design?” That’s to say, by planning and knowing where opportunities lurk, perhaps one is more apt to find oneself in a place where a coincidental find may be made. I don’t pretend to know the answer.

Buried in Post 21, published in February 2018, I recounted the story of a similar coincidental or fated event related to my family. Before moving to the subject of this post, I’ll review that earlier incident as it may have been overlooked by readers. Interestingly, it involves two elements of chance.

I estimate my uncle Dr. Franz Müller and aunt Susanne Müller, née Bruck, arrived in Florence, Italy in the early part of 1936, following their emigration from Germany to escape Nazi authoritarianism. Thanks to a friend my uncle knew in the Tuscan hill town of Fiesole, above Florence [Italian: Firenze] by the name of Dr. Gino Frascani, he and my aunt leased one of his villas, the Villa Primavera. (Figure 2) Eventually, in collaboration with an Austrian Jewish woman, Ms. Lucia von Jacobi (Figure 3), who’d also emigrated from Austria via Germany, my aunt Susanne and Lucia turned the Villa Primavera into a bed-and-breakfast. In Post 35, I discussed some of the guests who stayed there between 1937 and 1938 and their eventual fates.

 

Figure 2. Photograph of the Villa Primavera in 1938 taken by my father

 

 

Figure 3. Ms. Lucia von Jacobi in 1936-1937

 

In connection with my ancestral research, my wife Ann and I visited Fiesole and Florence in 2014, 2015, and 2016. Prior to our initial visit in 2014, I contacted the then-town archivist, Ms. Lucia Nadetti (Figure 4), at the “Archivio Storico Comunale,” the “Municipal Historic Archive,” and arranged to review pertinent documents. I’ve detailed the results of those archival investigations in Post 21, so refer readers to that post.

 

Figure 4. My friend Ms. Lucia Nadetti, the former archivist at the Municipal Historic Archive in Fiesole in 2014

 

Curious whether my uncle and aunt had purchased the Villa Primavera when they arrived in Fiesole, Ms. Nadetti directed us to the “Conservatoria Dei Registri Immobiliari” in nearby Firenze (Florence) to check ownership records.  Here, we learned the descendants of the former obstetrician/gynecologist Dr. Gino Frascani currently own two houses along Via Del Salviatino, the street where the Villa Primavera is located. However, the family no longer owns the villa though my uncle never purchased it.

The visit to the “Conservatoria,” however, resulted in the first of the two chance events mentioned above. In 2014, my wife and I were staying at a bed-and-breakfast on the outskirts of Fiesole, but rather than deal with Florence’s traffic to get to the Conservatoria, we took the bus.  While trying to ascertain where to catch the return bus at the end of the day, an English-speaking Italian woman, Ms. Giuditta Melli (Figure 5), noticed our confusion and confirmed we were in the right place. Giuditta was headed on the same bus, so we exchanged pleasantries on the ride, and she invited us to visit the ceramic shop near the Conservatoria where she teaches. Two days later we dropped by and mentioned our reason for visiting Fiesole. Giuditta was literally moved to tears because she’d recently learned that her great-uncle was Jewish and had been deported to Buchenwald from Firenze by the Italian Fascists and murdered there; the house where Giuditta currently lives was once owned by this great-uncle.  It should be noted that Giuditta is very familiar with the Villa Primavera as it’s located a stone’s throw from her home. Regardless, as we prepared to leave, we exchanged emails and promised to stay in touch.  This has turned into an exceptionally warm and productive friendship, one that led to the discovery of the second chance event.

 

Figure 5. My good friend, Ms. Giuditta Melli, in 2024 who my wife and I first met at a bus stop in Florence in 2014

 

Following our visit to Fiesole in 2015, my wife and I had not anticipated returning in 2016.  However, Giuditta made a surprising discovery while doing a casual online search of Lucia von Jacobi, the Austrian lady with whom my aunt ran the Pension Villa Primavera. As a result our plans changed. She learned of a professor, Dr. Irene Below (Figure 6), from Werther, Germany, who’d written a full-length book about Ms. Jacobi. Giuditta immediately contacted her, explained her interest in Lucia, told her of my aunt and uncle, and mentioned she was in touch and assisting me. Dr. Below was surprised to learn of Giuditta’s interest in people she’d studied and knew about, including my aunt and uncle.  Consequently, Giuditta invited Irene and my wife and me for a get-together at her home in 2016.

 

Figure 6. Dr. Irene Below at Parco di Monte Ceceri in Florence, Italy in 2016

 

Dr. Below explained how she came to write a book about Lucia von Jacobi.  She arrived in Firenze in 1964 as a student intending to write about the history of art.  While researching this topic, however, she happened upon magazines and diaries of an unknown person who turned out to be Ms. von Jacobi, a woman with very famous friends (e.g., Heinrich Mann and Thomas Mann, Gustaf Gründgens, etc.), and decided instead to write about her.  Then, as fate would have it, in 1966, Dr. Below walked into an antiquarian shop in Firenze (Figure 7) and discovered the bulk of Ms. Jacobi’s personal papers, which she soon purchased with her parents’ financial assistance.  For those unaware of events in Firenze in 1966, great floods along the Arno in November resulted in countless treasures being swept away and destroyed; if not for Dr. Below’s fortuitous discovery, the same would likely have happened to Ms. Jacobi’s papers.

 

Figure 7. The antiquarian shop in Florence where Dr. Below discovered Lucia von Jacobi’s personal papers

 

Readers may rightly wonder how or why Lucia’s personal papers wound up in an antiquarian shop in Florence. A little bit of historical context is necessary to explain how this likely happened. In May 1938, Hitler paid his second visit to Italy since becoming Chancellor of Germany in 1933 and the first since the two countries signed the Axis agreement in 1936. Over the course of seven days, Hitler and his extensive entourage were treated to a massive display of fascist spectacle in three cities: Rome, Naples and Florence. Hitler’s tour of Florence took place on May 9, 1938.

Soon after on July 14, 1938, Mussolini embraced the “Manifesto of the Racial Scientists.”  This Manifesto declared the Italian civilization to be of Aryan origin and claimed the existence of a “pure” Italian race to which Jews did not belong.  Between September 2, 1938, and November 17, 1938, Italy enacted a series of racial laws, including one forbidding foreign Jews from settling in Italy. Ms. Jacobi had just returned to Firenze from Palestine, but after passage of the racial laws, she escaped in October 1938 to Switzerland, forced to leave all her possessions behind. As a related aside, this corresponds with the same time that my aunt and uncle emigrated from Italy to France. Dr. Below surmises that Lucia’s personal papers remained in the Villa Primavera until Dr. Frascani’s descendants sold the house, after which they were sold to an antique dealer.

As to belongings among Lucia’s personal papers that relate to my aunt and uncle, there were several relevant items. Dr. Below discovered a photograph of Ms. Jacobi with my Uncle Franz seated on the same chairs as a photo I possess showing my aunt and uncle. (Figures 8-9) Another picture shows my aunt and uncle in their Sunday best. (Figure 10) Irene also found a card written by my Aunt Susanne to Lucia on July 31, 1938, from Champoluc in the Aosta Valley of Italy, where my aunt and uncle had gone on vacation. Most interesting is the surviving second page of a letter my Aunt Susanne wrote to Lucia when Lucia traveled to Palestine for three months in the latter half of 1938.

 

Figure 8. My uncle Dr. Franz Müller and Lucia von Jacobi at the Villa Primavera sometime between 1936 and 1938 seated at the same table and on the same chairs as my aunt and uncle as seen in Figure 9

 

Figure 9. My aunt and uncle at the Villa Primavera in 1938 seated at the same table and on the same chairs as seen in Figure 8

 

Figure 10. Photo of my aunt and uncle discovered by Dr. Irene Below in 1966 at an antiquarian shop in Florence

 

Thus, a chance encounter with an Italian lady Giuditta Melli on the streets of Florence in 2014 led to learning about Dr. Below who in 1966 walked into an antiquarian shop in Florence where she happened upon Lucia von Jacobi’s personal papers, the Austrian lady with whom my Aunt Susanne co-managed the Pension Villa Primavera in Fiesole between 1936 and 1938. Dr. Below then wrote a book about Lucia von Jacobi that my dear friend Giuditta stumbled upon. Included in this stash of papers are several items related to my family. Is this coincidence or predestination? I’ll let readers decide.

This brings me to a discussion of another more recent chance discovery. This involves a cache of photographs portraying my father’s first cousin, Fedor Löwenstein (1901-1946), that were found in a Paris flea market by a man named Nicolas Neumann (Figure 11) from Somogy Éditions d’Art; this is a French art book publishing house founded in 1937. Readers will recall that Fedor Löwenstein is my father’s first cousin who was most recently discussed in Post 160 and is the subject of my restitution and repatriation claim involving the French Ministry of Culture. Readers are invited to peruse my earlier post. However, let me review a few salient facts.

 

Figure 11. Nicolas Neumann from Somogy Editions who purchased documents and photos at a Paris flea market ca. 2015 belonging to Doris Halphen, Fedor Löwenstein’s onetime girlfriend

 

As mentioned in Post 160, I originally filed my claim for restitution and repatriation of Fedor Löwenstein’s artworks in October 2014. This was filed with the French Ministry of Culture’s (Premier Ministre) Commission pour la restitution des biens et l’indemnisation des victims de spoliations antisemites (CIVS), Commission for the restitution of property and compensation for victims of anti-Semitic spoliation. In May 2015 I traveled to Paris to discuss my claim with the CIVS and met staff members Mme. Muriel de Bastier and her intern Mlle. Eleonore Claret. (Figure 12)

 

Figure 12. In May 2015, me with Mme. Muriel de Bastier and her intern Eleonore Claret, CIVS staff

 

Several months later, Eleonore sent me photos of Fedor Löwenstein (Figure 13) from an exhibit on spoliated art that took place at the Centre national d’art et de culture Georges-Pompidou (“National Georges Pompidou Centre of Art and Culture”) in 2015. The origin of these photos was not explained so I sent an email to the Centre Pompidou requesting copies of the images and an explanation as to their source; I never heard back from them. I eventually ascertained the photos of Fedor Löwenstein that had been part of the 2015 museum exhibit at the Centre Pompidou originated from Nicolas Neumann’s find at the Paris flea market.

 

Figure 13. A page of photos showing Fedor Löwenstein originating from Nicolas Neumann’s find at a Paris flea market

 

Mr. Neumann determined the documents he’d found probably belonged to Fedor’s onetime girlfriend, Doris Halphen. (Figure 14) Mr. Neumann loaned the documents and photos he had purchased for the 2015 exhibit to the Centre Pompidou. Nicolas is friends with the retired Director of the Kandinsky Library, M. Didier Schulmann, who convinced him to donate the materials in February 2017 to the Kandinsky Library which is part of the Centre Pompidou.

 

Figure 14. Photograph from Doris Halphen’s album showing her with Fedor Löwenstein in Mirmande in the Drôme

 

The eclectic body of documentation is referred to as the “Corposano Archive Fund-Doris Halphen.” The archival collection comprises three significant groups. The first, the most substantial, is composed of documentation from the Corposano dance studio; the second is about Fedor Löwenstein; and the last is made up of biographical photographs and family albums.

The Kandinsky Library provides the following description about Doris Halphen, the Studio Corposano, and Fedor Löwenstein:

“Doris Halphen was born in Prague and co-founded the Corposano studio with her Finnish collaborator Marianne Pontan in 1932 in Paris. They taught a very innovative dance method at the time: the Hallerau-Laxenberg method. (Figures 15-18) The documents in the collection, mostly photographs, are both portraits of dancers in the studio and advertising items. Press articles and dance magazines provide an overview of the context of dance in the 1930s and 1940s and an understanding of the Hallerau-Laxenberg method and its principles.

 

Figure 15. Dancers from the Corposano Studio in Mirmande in the Drôme dancing the Hallerau-Laxenberg method

 

Figure 16. Dancers from the Corposano Studio in Mirmande in the Drôme

 

Figure 17. Doris Halphen, Fedor Löwenstein’s onetime girlfriend, dancing at Mirmande

 

Figure 18. Doris Halphen, Fedor Löwenstein’s onetime girlfriend, dancing at Mirmande

 

A second part of the collection consists of documentation on Fedor Löwenstein (1901-1946). Born in Munich on April 13, 1901, he studied at the School of Decorative Arts in Berlin, then at the Academy of Fine Arts in Dresden, where Oskar Kokoschka taught from 1919 to 1924. He joined France in 1923 and settled in Paris, attracted by the artistic influence of the capital. A lover of Doris Halphen, the painter’s Jewish and Czechoslovak condition forced him to leave Paris at the beginning of the war and take refuge in Mirmande in the Drôme. (Figure 19) The couple separated shortly afterwards, and Fedor Löwenstein lived a tumultuous passion with the artist Marcelle Rivier until October-November 1943.”

 

Figure 19. Postcard of Mirmande in Drôme in southern France, where Fedor Löwenstein went into hiding during part of WWII

 

The collection includes unidentified biographical photographs of Doris Halphen that were probably taken at the beginning of the twentieth century in Prague. Additionally, there are two photographic albums that retrace the memories of two summers in Mirmande in the Drôme, including one from 1938. Fedor Löwenstein and Doris Halphen are the recurring characters.

My April 2024 visit to Paris to attend a CIVS committee meeting where my compensation claim was being discussed provided a perfect opportunity to visit the Kandinsky Library where the Doris Halphen collection is archived. Appointments must be scheduled in advance. With the grateful assistance of Mme. Florence Saragoza, who originally helped me file my claim in 2014, I was able to make last-minute arrangements to examine and photograph the collection.

Fortunately, Mme. Muriel de Bastier, whom I first met in 2015 and who still works at the CIVS, accompanied my wife and me to the Kandinsky Library; I say fortunately because the line to enter the Centre Pompidou extended for blocks, and I otherwise would never have been able to view the Doris Halphen Collection before the museum closed. Muriel graciously also arranged for us to meet M. Didier Schulmann, the former Director of the Kandinsky Library, who gave me an extremely useful orientation to the collection. (Figure 20)

 

Figure 20. From left to right: Didier Schulmann, former Director of the Kandinsky Library, me, and Muriel de Bastier at the Centre Pompidou in April 2024

 

During my all-too brief visit, I concentrated on photographing the album with pictures of Fedor Löwenstein and Doris Halphen. (Figure 21-23) Among the images unlikely to have been recognized by any other researcher were two of Fedor with his sister Jeanne “Hansi” Goff, née Löwenstein (1902-1986) that were taken in Mirmande. (Figures 24-25) Unlike Fedor who died in 1946 before I was born, I met Hansi in Nice, France on multiple occasions as a child.

 

Figure 21. Fedor Löwenstein in Mirmande

 

Figure 22. Fedor Löwenstein in Mirmande

 

Figure 23. Fedor Löwenstein and Doris Halphen in Mirmande

 

Figure 24. One of two photographs of Fedor Löwenstein with his sister Jeanne “Hansi” Goff, née Löwenstein in Mirmande

 

Figure 25. Second of two photographs of Fedor Löwenstein with his sister Jeanne “Hansi” Goff, née Löwenstein, seated next to him, in Mirmande

 

An out-of-place picture I discovered in the collection was of the famous African American, Paul Robeson (1898-1976). He was an American bass-baritone concert artist, actor, professional football player, and activist who became famous both for his cultural accomplishments and for his political stances. Among the few pictures in Doris Halphen’s collection that is captioned it reads “Robeson at Wo-Chula.” (Figures 26a-b) I think this picture was taken in Chowula, Ghana, but the circumstances for its inclusion in Doris’ album is a complete mystery.

 

Figure 26a. Photo from Doris Halphen’s album of Paul Robeson at Wo-Chula, believed to be in Ghana

 

Figure 26b. Caption on picture of “Robeson at Wo-Chula”

 

I’ve never met nor communicated with Nicolas Neumann so am in the dark regarding the precise circumstances under which he found Doris Halphen’s collection. Regardless, I imagine he’s one of the few people who would have realized the significance of what he’d found and had connections with the Kandinsky Library to ensure the materials wound up in an archive where they would be properly cared for. From a personal standpoint, what is gratifying is that I was able to track down a previously unknown to me cache of Fedor Löwenstein photographs. The more existential question is that Nicolas Neimann even found Doris Halphen’s surviving papers and photographs. Again, I ask whether this was fated or coincidental?

 

 

REFERENCES

Isenberg, Madeleine. (2012). The Rotter Relic. AVOTAYNU, Volume XXVIII (Issue 4, Winter 2012), pp. 27-31.

Studio Corposano – Doris Halphen. Circa 1900-1950, Centre Pompidou, Paris, Kandinsky Library – Documentation and Research Centre of the National Museum of Modern Art – Centre for Industrial Creation, Call number: COR 1 – 4.

Studio Corposano – Doris Halphen, 1900-1950 | Funds and sub-funds | Union Catalogue of France (CCFr) (bnf.fr)

 

 

 

POST 160: UPDATE ON COMPENSATION CLAIM AGAINST THE FRENCH MINISTRY OF CULTURE INVOLVING NAZI-CONFISCATED FAMILY ART

Note: In this post, I update readers on a compensation and restitution claim I filed with the French Ministry of Culture in October 2014 related to family works of art seized by the Nazis at the Port of Bordeaux in December 1940. The paintings and etchings had been consigned for sale to an art gallery in New York City by my father’s first cousin, Fedor Löwenstein, when they were confiscated. I recently attended a meeting in Paris where the Ministry discussed my longstanding case

 

Related Posts:

POST 105: FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN ‘S NAZI-CONFISCATED ART: RESTITUTION DENIED

POST 131: AN “EXEMPLARY” RESTITUTION WITH CURT GLASER’S HEIRS INVOLVING AN EDVARD MUNCH PAINTING

 

My wife Ann and I recently attended a meeting in Paris of the French Ministry of Culture’s (Premier Ministre) Commission pour la restitution des biens et l’indemnisation des victimes de spoliations antisemites (CIVS), Commission for the restitution of property and compensation for victims of anti-Semitic spoliation. This French agency is tasked with processing claims from Jewish heirs requesting restitution for and repatriation of works of art that were confiscated from their ancestors by the Nazis in France during World War II. The CIVS is specifically responsible for dealing with works of art that wound up in the possession of the Centre Pompidou, France’s Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, following the end of the war. After learning the origins of some of their holdings, the museum now tacitly acknowledges it does not have legal entitlement to the surviving works of art and is seeking to repatriate these artifacts and compensate rightful owners.

In 2014, I inadvertently discovered that three paintings seized by the Nazis at the Port of Bordeaux in December 1940 that were rendered by my father’s first cousin, Fedor Löwenstein (variously also spelled Lowenstein, Loewenstein, Loevenstein) (Figures 1-2), survive at the Centre Pompidou. It so happens that in 2014, the summer my wife and I spent 13 weeks in Europe visiting places stretching from Poland to Spain associated with my Jewish family’s diaspora, serendipitously these three painting were exhibited at the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Bordeaux.

 

Figure 1. Fedor Löwenstein in the late 1930s or early 1940s when he was in hiding in Mirmande in Drôme, the southernmost department of France

 

Figure 2. A charcoal self-portrait of Fedor Löwenstein

 

In reviewing online materials discussing this show, I learned that Ms. Florence Saragoza was the curator of this museum exhibit. At the time Ms. Saragoza was coincidentally the director of an archaeological museum, the National Prehistoric Museum in Les Eyzies-de-Tayac, France (Figure 3); I say coincidentally because I too once worked as an archaeologist. In any event, I set out to contact Florence, and within two days after reaching out to her she responded with very moving words telling me, and I paraphrase, that it brought tears to her eyes to learn that Fedor Löwenstein has a living descendant. Florence and I are still in contact after ten years.

 

Figure 3. Ms. Florence Saragoza, former Director of the Musée Crozatier in le Puy-en-Velay, France, and the current director of the Toulouse-Lautrec Museum in Albi, France

 

Acutely aware of my ancestral lineage, I quickly realized I’m Fedor’s closest surviving blood relative. Upon learning this, Ms. Saragoza asked me whether I wished to file a claim with the CIVS. I told her I did, and Florence graciously assisted me in doing so in October 2014. Because of Florence’s in-depth knowledge of Fedor’s personal history and artworks, I learned the consignment of art destined for New York the Nazis seized in December 1940 in Bordeaux included not only the three surviving paintings but also 22 other etchings and paintings that are believed to have been destroyed. For these no longer existing pieces of art, my claim requested restitution. Below I will explain in more detail the history of the artworks confiscated by the Nazis in France.

As many readers may know, claims from Jewish heirs whose ancestors had their artworks and personal property confiscated by the Nazis elsewhere typically take decades to resolve because the artworks and such are strewn around the globe and/or the heirs encounter stiff resistance from museums and purported owners who acquired the artworks under dodgy circumstances or with no provenance. Unlike such claims, as mentioned above, the French Ministry of Culture acknowledges its responsibility to repatriate seized items housed in the Centre Pompidou and, where the items are thought to have been destroyed, compensate heirs. That said, this does not mean the process is expeditious. To date my claim has been under review for ten years. Let me update readers on the status of my claim begun in 2014 though I hasten to add it has not yet been resolved to my satisfaction.

I first reported on the status of my claim in Post 105 published in 2021. Let me review what I disclosed at the time. At the outset, it is very important to point out that the CIVS did not initiate contact with me and the heirs to Fedor’s estate. Rather, I initiated contact with them and submitted my claim based on publicly available information I uncovered claiming the CIVS is searching for family to whom to repatriate looted art. This is significant as to where things stand today and the reason I seemingly have the Commission’s attention.

In 1940, while hiding out in a town called Mirmande in Drôme, the southernmost department in the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region of Southeastern France (Figure 4), Fedor traveled to Paris. There he selected small format works as well as six watercolors that he brought to be shipped to New York City. There is little information about the circumstances surrounding this project, but the paintings were sent to a harbor warehouse in Bordeaux for shipment to an American gallery. Unfortunately, the crates never left Bordeaux but were instead “requisitioned” by German military authorities on the 5th of December 1940, the date of a major seizure operation.

 

Figure 4. Mirmande in Drôme in southern France, where Fedor Löwenstein went into hiding during part of WWII

 

A special commando unit affiliated with the “Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg (ERR)” (Reichsleiter Rosenberg Taskforce) raided the warehouse where Fedor’s crates were stored, seized them, and had them shipped to Paris where they were stored at the “Jeu de Paume.” The ERR was a Nazi Party organization dedicated to appropriating cultural property during WWII and was led by the chief ideologue of the Nazi Party, Alfred Rosenberg, ergo its name. The Jeu de Paume was the seat of ERR’s processing of looted art objects confiscated from Jewish-owned collections in France. (Figure 5)

 

Figure 5. Historic picture of Hermann Göring visiting the Jeu de Paume; he is reported to have visited 21 times to select looted paintings to add to his private collection

 

Owing to the abstract cubist nature of Löwenstein’s works, the ERR staff at the Jeu de Paume deemed them as “degenerate” and consigned them to the store room for condemned art, the “Salles des Martyrs,” Martyrs’ Hall. (Figures 6-7) They were marked for destruction, in German “vernichet.” In total, 25 paintings by Fedor were seized and brought to the Jeu de Paume to be disposed of for ideological reasons.

 

Figure 6. Historic photograph of the Jeu de Paume’s “Salle des Martyrs,” the hall where paintings slated for destruction by the Nazis were stored

 

Figure 7. Another historic photograph of the Jeu de Paume’s “Salle des Martyrs”

 

Almost seventy years after the Liberation of Paris in August 1944 three of the purportedly destroyed Löwenstein paintings resurfaced at the Centre Pompidou. French Ministry of Culture officials were able to match the resurrected paintings with information contained in the ERR database for three works labeled by the Germans as Löwenstein 4 (“Composition (Paysage)” or Landscape) (Figure 8), Löwenstein 15 (“Peupliers” or Poplars) (Figure 9), and Löwenstein 19 (“Les Arbes” or The Trees). (Figure 10) In the official catalogue of unclaimed works and objects of art known as “Musée Nationaux Récupération (MNR),” the works are assigned MNR numbers R26, R27, and R28. These three paintings correspond to Löwenstein’s works of art that were displayed at the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Bordeaux in 2014. All three paintings were signed “Fedor Loevenstein,” though possibly the “v” was actually a “w.” (Figure 11) I would later learn from a French reader of my Blog, who purchased several of his works at auction, that Löwenstein also signed some with his initials in reverse, “LF.”

 

Figure 8. Fedor Löwenstein’s 1939 painting “Composition (Paysage)” or Landscape which survives to the present day

 

Figure 9. Fedor Löwenstein’s 1939 painting “Peupliers” or Poplars which also still survives

 

Figure 10. Fedor Löwenstein’s 1939 painting “Les Arbes” or The Trees which is the last of his surviving paintings

 

Figure 11. Fedor Löwenstein’s signature on the painting known as “Peupliers,” seemingly signed “Loevenstein”

 

In connection with researching and writing the catalog for the 2014 exhibit of Fedor Löwenstein’s three resurrected paintings, Florence Saragoza and her colleagues uncovered the notes of the curatorial attaché at the Jeu de Paume, Rose Valland. (Figure 12) Her notes from July 20, 1943, confirm the fate of artworks destined for destruction: “Scholz and his team continue to choose from among the paintings in the Louvre’s escrow and stab the paintings they do not want to keep. This is how they destroyed almost all of Masson’s works and all of Dalí’s. The paintings in the Loewenstein, Esmont (sic), M[ichel]-G[eorges] Michel collections are almost all shredded. . .” On July 23rd, she added “The paintings massacred in the Louvre’s sequestration were brought back to the Jeu de Paume. Five or six hundred were burned under German surveillance in the museum garden from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. . . . The paintings that remained in the Louvre were classified by category. . .”. It appears that Löwenstein’s three works that escaped destruction had been classified by the Louvre as “paintings of lesser importance,” while his remaining works were likely stabbed, shredded and/or incinerated. More on this below.

 

Figure 12. Picture of Rose Valland from an unknown source in the Salle des Martyrs

 

Florence Saragoza and her colleagues, using the notes left behind by Rose Valland, were able to attribute most of the paintings exhibited there. They did this using a detailed digitization of the negatives, work by work, accompanied by a process of so-called “anamorphosis.” Suffice it to say about this process that since the paintings in the contemporary photos from the Jeu de Paume look somewhat distorted (see Figures 6-7), some digital manipulation was required to identify and attribute the works of art.

Beyond Löwenstein’s painting known as “Composition (Paysage)” which survives and is one of the objects of my claim, two other paintings by Löwenstein are partially or completely visible in the contemporary photos from the Jeu de Paume; one cannot be identified, and the second is titled “The Modern City.” Their status is unknown, but they are presumed to have been destroyed by the Nazis in the manner described above by Rose Valland.

As previously alluded to, Fedor Löwenstein’s 25 paintings were seized from État-major administratif du port, hangar H, Bordeaux, the “Port Administration Headquarters, Hanger H, Bordeaux.” They were confiscated at the same time as a set of Dali’s works were taken from another collector, which were described under the acronym “unbekannt,” “unknown.” This was intended to indicate that the history of the works had been lost during the various transfers from their seizure in Bordeaux to their shipment to Paris, the inventories being drawn up only belatedly by the historians of the ERR. Again quoting from the exhibition catalog, “But the fact that these collections were made anonymous was also part of the ideological policy of the Third Reich, which aimed at cultural appropriation, an affirmation of superiority inscribed in a historical connection and a rewriting of art history.” As in the case of Dali’s works, the provenance of the three orphan paintings by Löwenstein was lost and they were described as having been donated anonymously in 1973. Only in 2011 were they reclassified as stolen works. This brings me to what I had learned by the time I filed my claim in 2014. 

Following submission of my claim in October 2014 and acknowledgement of such by the CIVS in November of that year, no further action was undertaken by them until I was contacted in February 2017 by a forensic genealogist they contracted with. Having essentially already done all the genealogical fact-finding on my own, I turned over a copy of my research. The next time I corresponded with the Premier Ministre’s office was in June 2021 when they sent me an initial letter rejecting my claim.

I vented my bitterness and disappointment about this determination in Post 105, so I refer readers to that post. However, I will briefly review the basis for the French Ministry of Culture’s decision, and actions I have subsequently taken to attempt to right this perceived wrong.

Inasmuch as I can ascertain, I’m a “victim” of France’s legal system, which follows civil law rather than common law. Under civil law, codified statutes and ordinances are followed. In common law, past legal precedents or judicial rulings are used to decide cases at hand.

Historians believe the Romans developed civil law in around 600 C.E., when the emperor Justinian began compiling legal codes. Current civil law codes developed around the Justinian tradition of codifying laws as opposed to legal rulings.

The United States, Canada, England, India, and Australia are generally considered common law countries. Because they were all once subjects or colonies of Great Britain, they have often retained the tradition of common law. The state of Louisiana uses bijuridicial civil law because it was once a colony of France. Civil law countries include all of South America (except Guyana), almost all of Europe (including Germany, France, and Spain), China, and Japan.

Common law dates to the early English monarchy and began when the courts began collecting and publishing legal decisions. Later, those published decisions were used as the basis to decide similar cases.

Today the difference between common law and civil legal tenets lies in the actual source of law. While common law systems refer extensively to statutes, judicial cases are considered the most important source of law, allowing judges to actively contribute to rulings. For consistency, courts abide by precedents set by higher courts examining the same issue.

In the case of civil law systems, codes and statutes govern all eventualities and judges have a more limited role of applying the law to the case in hand. Past judgements merely provide loose guidelines.

What this means in terms of my claim against the French Ministry of Culture is that the rights to Fedor Löwenstein’s estate are determined by the civil code governing inheritance in France. Thus, the people whom Fedor specifically named in his will and their named heirs are deemed to be the rightful legatees. So, since Fedor left his estate to his sister Jeanne Goff, née Löwenstein (1902-1986) (Figure 13) and brother Heinz Löwenstein (1905-1979) (Figure 14) and neither of them had children, Fedor’s siblings left their estates to unrelated friends who in turn left their property to their heirs. Unlike me, these individuals are not blood relatives of Löwenstein.

 

Figure 13. Fedor Löwenstein with his sister Jeanne Goff, née Löwenstein

 

Figure 14. Fedor Löwenstein with his brother Heinz Löwenstein, known after he immigrated to Israel as “Chanoch Avinari”

 

France considers property left in a will a “universal legacy,” and a person who inherits the rights, obligations, possession, and debts of a testator’s title in property through a testamentary disposition is called a “universal legatee.” CIVS concluded these heirs, these so-called “universal legatees,” have a legal claim to Löwenstein’s property and damages that supersedes mine; this concept of universal legatees is an element of civil law.

The forensic genealogist identified two universal legatees to Fedor Löwenstein’s estate, one for each of Fedor’s siblings, making me a third-tier heir. Following the identification of these two universal legatees, the CIVS contacted both. They agreed to subrogate my claim, that’s to say, to substitute their names for mine on the compensation claim. How magnanimous of them!

In layman’s terms, then, it was on this basis that my claim for restitution and repatriation of Fedor’s paintings has been rejected.

Following publication of Post 105, I was contacted by one of my distant cousins. She and her extended family are involved in their own long-running case for compensation and repatriation of works of art stolen from one of her ancestors by the Nazis or the sales of which were forced at a much-reduced value. (See Post 131) My cousin suggested I contact her New York-based lawyer, who put me in touch with an American-trained French lawyer, who in turn referred me to a French lawyer specializing in cases like mine. Feeling I had nothing to lose I hired this lawyer.

Based on what I’ve detailed above, French civil law is clear as to my rights or the lack thereof to compensation and restitution related to Fedor Löwenstein’s estate. Thus, my lawyer was compelled to find another way to obtain some measure of justice on my behalf. The argument we made to the CIVS is that I should be eligible for a finder’s fee. Absent my discovery and hard work, neither of the universal legatees would have been aware that the CIVS had any Löwenstein paintings to repatriate, nor compensation to mete out. Insofar as I’m aware, neither of the universal legatees was even aware of Fedor Löwenstein’s existence prior to my endeavors. Furthermore, given the CIVS’ extreme workload it is highly unlikely they would have prioritized dealing with Fedor Löwenstein’s estate; absent my claim, the case might have languished for many more years, long after the legatees were dead.

The Latin term and legal theory quantum meruit applies and translates to “as much as he has earned,” and refers to the actual value of services rendered. It is defined as “payment for the value of goods or services as partial fulfillment of a contract, or when there is no contract specifying a price in the transaction.” Vis a vis my case, the universal legatees are receiving services from me (i.e., my research; submission of a claim application) on an unexpected basis from which they stand to benefit (i.e., repatriation of valuable paintings and monetary restitution). While they obtained these benefits without signing a contract for payment, or without obtaining a price for those services, given that we were previously unaware of one another’s existence, a reasonable person would know that payment is expected. As such there can be no doubt that I deserve to be paid for the services rendered and the benefits the legatees stand to receive.

The CIVS had seemingly agreed I should receive a finder’s fee, which, if true, would have been ground-breaking in terms of the previous claims that have come before the committee. This would have been unprecedented.

This pretty much brings readers up to date with where things stood prior to my recent trip to Paris.

Shortly before an upcoming vacation my wife and I already had planned to Spain and Portugal, my lawyer asked us whether we could come to Paris to attend a full CIVS committee meeting scheduled for April 26th. Among other business, my claim was to be discussed and hopefully resolved. My lawyer and I agreed that my attendance might be valuable.

One of the universal legatees resides in Haifa, Israel, the other in the environs of Nice, France. Neither legatee attended nor had a representative at the meeting. However, both have expressed their desire to committee liaisons that Fedor Löwenstein’s three paintings remain together in France and their apparent willingness to share a portion of the restitution. While I would prefer the paintings remain united, it is my preference they come to the United States as Fedor himself had wanted and be donated to an appropriate museum in America. However, as a non-universal legatee, I have no leverage to dictate this outcome.

Complicating matters in this regard is that the Premier Ministre has made it clear they consider these paintings to be part of France’s historical legacy and want them to stay in France. All three paintings which my wife and I had an opportunity to view (Figure 15) and handle during our recent visit to Paris, have evidence of large red “Xs” (Figure 16) Nazis scrawled across the canvases, indicating they were slated for immolation. Interestingly, the modest valuation of Löwenstein’s artworks is augmented by this desecration of the paintings.

 

Figure 15. My wife Ann and I viewing one of Fedor Löwenstein’s surviving paintings from the “Salle des Martyrs,” entitled “Composition”

 

Figure 16. Readers can vaguely make out part of the red “X” the Nazis scrawled atop one of Löwenstein’s canvases, indicating it was slated for destruction

 

Following the meeting in Paris, my lawyer and I requested an opportunity to contact the universal legatees, something we’d been discouraged from doing previously, to allow time to negotiate a fair agreement on restitution and repatriation. They supposedly agreed. Upon my return to the states, I wrote letters to both legatees, though neither has gotten back to me. Bewilderingly, amid these efforts, just as I was putting the final touches on this blog post, the CIVS rendered their “final” decision. Apparently, what the CIVS considers a “fair” finder’s fee is splitting the not insubstantial restitution money between the two universal legatees and “giving” the universal legatees and myself one painting each with an expectation that the paintings remain in France.

My quest for justice must continue.

REFERENCES

“Civil Law vs Common Law.” Diffen.com. Diffen LLC, n.d. Web. 12 Jun 2024. Civil Law vs Common Law – Difference and Comparison | Diffen

Fédor Löwenstein (1901-1946) trois œuvres martyres. 16 May-24 Aug. 2014. Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux, Bordeaux.

“Quantum Meruit.” Legal Dictionary.net. Quantum Meruit – Definition, Examples, Cases, Processes (legaldictionary.net)

 

 

POST 159: HERITAGE TOURISM VS. HERITAGE TOURISM

 

Note: I recently came upon an alternate use of the term “heritage tourism” that I briefly contrast with the application of the phrase during my working days.

 

Some readers know I worked as an archaeologist for the largest U.S. federal land-managing agency, the Bureau of Land Management or the “BLM,” which currently administers roughly 245 million acres. I spent the bulk of my career in the headquarters office in Washington, D.C. working in an administrative position rather than as a field archaeologist. Among my responsibilities was developing the annual budget for submission to Congress for what was dubbed the “cultural resource management program,” which has broad authority over prehistoric and historic archaeological resources; paleontological resources; museum collections; Native American tribal coordination; heritage education; and more.

Road signs usually inform travelers they have crossed onto or entered BLM lands. Unlike one of BLM’s sister agencies, the National Park Service, rarely are tourists required to go through a gated park entrance and pay an entrance fee to access BLM’s so-called public lands.

Unfettered access to most of the agency’s lands has clear advantages. An obvious one is that visitors are not usually required to pay to use the BLM lands. Another benefit is they can enjoy a dispersed recreational opportunity in a natural outdoor setting surrounded by fewer tourists. Many of the agency’s cultural and fossil resources are in wilderness areas where motorized vehicles are prohibited; these areas are largely devoid of modern human development and untrammeled by people. This enables outdoor enthusiasts to view these resources in their original setting and imagine the world in which they were created.

From BLM’s standpoint, however, there are also some serious drawbacks from unrestricted access to their lands. Many of the agency’s remote cultural and paleontological resources have been targeted by looters, vandals, and so-called “pothunters.” Archaeological and fossil sites that might have informed scientists and tourists about the recent and distant past have been irreparably damaged. Many of these places are no longer suitable for study and public interpretation. The economic, recreational, and scientific benefits the public might have derived from them is no longer attainable.

Because public lands offer dispersed recreation with few entry points to count visitors, BLM is often unable to estimate their number and quantify the economic impact of tourists. Absent this information it is sometimes difficult to convince Congressional representatives how their constituents benefit from the multiple uses and users of the public lands. Consequently, in the case of cultural resources, it is challenging to make a compelling case for additional funding that could be used to enhance the visitor experience and “harden” archaeological and historic sites so they can be interpreted and better withstand a constant stream of tourists. Supplemental funding could also be used to hire more law enforcement rangers to better protect cultural and paleontological resources from illegal appropriation. Suffice it to say, the BLM’s cultural resource management program is underfunded despite having world-class archaeological and fossil resources that require active rather than passive management.

Public land visitation focused on touring archaeological, historical, and fossil sites, including viewing museum collections derived from scientific study of these resources, is commonly referred to as “heritage tourism.” This is the context that I’m familiar with the phrase.

Recently, I came upon an alternate meaning of heritage tourism, one that coincidentally provided the impetus for this family history blog.

Earlier in my blog, I explained to readers that my father Dr. Otto Bruck (1907-1994) left me with seven photo albums of pictures covering the mid-1910s to the late 1940s. While my father was reasonably good at captioning his pictures and naming people, there were some people he failed to put a name to. In some cases, my father identified them only by their forenames or nicknames. Fortunately, in 2010, at the time I started trying to learn more about my father’s life through his photos, a few of his contemporaries were still alive who were able to fill in some holes. All have since died.

A furious letter-writing campaign in the early 2010s to presumed descendants of people my father had once known led to additional identifications.

Finally, hoping to learn more and connect to some of the places where my father and his family had lived, in 2014 my wife and I went on a thirteen-week driving vacation to Europe that took us everywhere from northeast Poland, near the existing Russian enclave of Kaliningrad, to southern Spain. On this and subsequent vacations, I obtained records, vital documents, letters, photos, maps, etc. from various city halls and archives, as well as private individuals, in Poland, Germany, France, Italy, and Spain; most have not been digitized and are therefore inaccessible to ancestral researchers. This resulted in yet more family identifications and finding cousins I might never have found absent these trips to Europe.

In any case, the vacations and trips my wife and I took to Europe following my family’s diaspora would be considered a different type of “heritage tourism.” A January 2024 article “The Fantasy of Heritage Tourism” in The Atlantic by Gisela Salim-Peyer drew my attention to this type of travel. The author also made me aware of a sociologist named Marcus Lee Hansen who Wikipedia describes as “an important historian of American immigration.” Further quoting what Wikipedia says:

“In a 1938 essay, ‘The Problem of the Third Generation Immigrant,’ he first presented what he called ‘the principle of third generation interest’: ‘What the son wishes to forget the grandson wishes to remember.’ This hypothesis suggests that ethnicity is preserved among immigrants, weakens among their children, and returns with their grandchildren. Children of immigrants tend to reject the foreign ways of their parents, including their religion, and want to join the American mainstream, but the next generation wants to retain the values of their ancestors. The religion of the first-generation immigrant, which the second-generation rejects, may be reaffirmed by the third generation.”

According to Ms. Salim-Peyer, fourth, fifth and sixth generation immigrants visiting places where their ancestors came from has resulted in heritage tourism having grown into its own travel category; people traveling to “trace their roots” and reestablish ancestral connections has apparently increased by 500 percent since 2014. As someone who has engaged in this type of travel, albeit at a much lower cost than packaged tours offered by companies such as Ancestry in collaboration with travel agencies, I can attest to an experience that Ms. Salim-Peyer characterizes as ”. . .much more ‘personal’ and ‘deep’. . .”

An earlier effort, following WWII, to promote this form of heritage tourism as a major component of diplomacy to unite European countries against the Soviet Union, was an abject failure. According to Ms. Salim-Peyer, part of the problem was the exorbitant cost of plane travel at the time. Another factor is that many people in the aftermath of WWII were not then interested in connecting to their homelands. And, yet another element Ms. Salim-Peyer cites is that for a long time, genealogy was considered elitist by people in the United States: “Most European settlers, the historian Russell Bidlack wrote, ‘had escaped from a society where the traditions of inheritance and caste had denied them opportunity for a better life.’ Genealogy was for people obsessed with nobility, or for WASPs living off borrowed glory.”

According to Ms. Salim-Peyer what changed to make genealogy “cool” was the publication of Alex Haley’s 1976 “Roots” novel about a seven-generation lineage that started with a man sold into slavery in Gambia. For readers who recall this book, it topped the New York Times best-seller list for more than five months and inspired TV adaptations and current tracing-your-roots reality shows.

I have several hand-drawn and detailed ancestral trees from various branches of my extended family attesting to the hard work that was once entailed in developing ancestral charts before searchable online genealogical databases became widely available. In combination with DNA testing which became mainstream in the 2010s, tracking down one’s origins and visiting places associated with one’s ancestors has become much easier and more commonplace. This, in turn, has given rise to a different brand of heritage tourism than I was aware of during my working days.

In closing, personally speaking, I would simply say the two types of heritage tourism have played varying roles in my life. It’s not so much that I retired from being an archaeologist as I transitioned to using some of the same skills, particularly those I learned as a field archaeologist, to doing forensic genealogy to track down my own family’s origins and visit some of these places. Thus, I continue to be engaged in heritage tourism, albeit in a different form.

 

REFERENCES

“Marcus Lee Hansen.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 22 September 2023. Marcus Lee Hansen – Wikipedia

Salim-Peyer, G. (2024, January 20). The fantasy of heritage tourism. The Atlantic. Why So Many Americans Are Traveling Back to Their Roots – The Atlantic

POST 158: EMIL THOMAS, A FAMOUS THESPIAN & ILLEGITIMATE SON OF DR. JONAS BRUCK

Note: In this post, I introduce readers to the famous German actor and theater director Emil Thomas, the illegitimate son of my second great granduncle Dr. Jonas Bruck. Exceptionally well-known in Germany, he had a more than 50-year long career and was hailed in his New York Times death notice as “one of the most artistic comedians on the German stage.”

 

My English fourth cousin, Helen, Winter, née Renshaw, recently suggested I write a blog story about a man named Emil Thomas. As the name did not immediately resonate, I checked my ancestral tree and surprisingly discovered I have him there as Emil Bruck. Having obviously come across his name somewhere but with no vital information, I assumed he had died at birth, and was the stillborn fourth son of my second great granduncle and -aunt Jonas Bruck (1813-1883) (Figure 1) and Rosalie Bruck, née Marle (1817-1890). (Figure 2) I was to learn differently, particularly as Helen’s suggestion came accompanied by a picture of the once living and distinguished looking Emil Thomas. (Figure 3)

 

Figure 1. A painting of my second great granduncle Dr. Jonas Bruck (1813-1883) as a young man

 

 

Figure 2. My second great grandaunt Rosalie Marle (1817-1890) in 1881 dressed in an elegant silk gown

 

Figure 3. Photo of Emil Thomas (1836-1904) sent to me by my fourth cousin

 

I quickly discovered that Emil Thomas was a famous German actor and theater director. I suspect a German not knowing Emil Thomas would be tantamount to an American not knowing John Wayne. As Emil was well known, finding out about him was not difficult. Information can be found on German Wikipedia as well as in two German-language books he wrote that, unfortunately, have not been translated into English.

Given my familiarity with Jonas and Rosalie’s other three highly accomplished sons, it struck me as odd that I hadn’t previously come across Emil’s biography. In the ensuing presentation, I will briefly focus on Emil’s private rather than public persona, as my interest is primarily understanding his relationship to his father and family, not in examining his career or his bond to his legion of fans. Let me briefly explore what I’ve uncovered with the help of a German fourth cousin Thomas Koch who summarized some of what Emil himself wrote.

Emil Thomas’ father, Dr. Jonas Bruck, studied medicine and dentistry in Berlin. While there, he had an affair with an Emma Tobias (1810-1878). By all accounts, Jonas marrying Emma would have been a perfectly acceptable match since she was Jewish and of equivalent social rank. For whatever reason, this did not happen.

Rosalie Marle, the Jewish lady Jonas Bruck eventually married, was the daughter of a banker to the Prince of Pless. The Duchy of Pless was one of the Duchies of Silesia with its capital at Pless [today: Pszczyna, Poland]. During the War of the Austrian Succession from 1740 to 1748, most of Silesia including Pless was conquered by the kingdom of Prussia. The dukes, and later Princes, of Pless, however, held on to their territory.

My German fourth cousin’s great-aunt Bertha Bruck (1873-1957) (Figure 4) wrote a memoir in which she remarks that Rosalie Marle was one of the most beautiful dancers in the court of Pless. Jonas Bruck may have been following his family’s wishes when he married Rosalie, or simply his heart, though marrying her could have been a transactional decision based on the greater perceived benefits he might accrue. One may never know.

 

Bertha Bruck (1873-1957), whose memoir includes mention of Emil Thomas

 

On ancestry.com, I was able to locate the birth register listing for Emil Thomas, showing he was born on the 24th of December 1836 and was named Ludwig Heinrich Emil Tobias. (Figures 5a-b) Only his mother’s name is given, Emma Tobias; the father is unidentified. Intriguingly, when Emil was baptized the following year on the 20th of April 1837, a Brook zahnarzt, “the dentist Brook,” the surname oddly spelled the Americanized way like my own, was in attendance; the first name is illegible but is no doubt Jonas. This suggests there was no real effort to conceal the identity of the father. And in German Wikipedia, it is explicitly written that Emil was the son of a dentist.

 

Figure 5a. Screen shot of cover page of Ludwig Heinrich Emil Tobias’, aka Emil Thomas, 1836 birth and 1837 baptism record

 

 

Figure 5b. Emil Thomas’ birth and baptism record proving he was born on the 24 of November 1836 in Vienna and baptized on the 20th of April 1837 with the “Brook zahnarzt (dentist)” present

 

German Wikipedia goes on to say that Emil showed an early interest in the theater, going so far as to do an apprenticeship as a bookbinder thinking this profession would give him access to reading many plays. He had a very varied career, highlights of which can be found in the Jewish Encyclopedia. (Figure 6) He died on the 19th of September 1904 in Berlin, and his death was reported in the New York Times the following day.

 

Figure 6. Screen shot from “The Jewish Encyclopedia” with Emil (spelled Emile) Thomas’ theater biography

 

Emil Thomas married the soprano singer Betty Damhofer (Figure 7), born Barbara Damhofer, on the 12th of December 1878 in Hamburg, Germany. (Figures 8a-c) Emblematic of what I often rail about is that on the cover page of Emil and Barbara’s marriage certificate in ancestry.com, Barbara’s date of birth is shown as the 14th of December 1837, erroneous information that has been disseminated. I had the good fortune to find Barbara Damhofer’s birth register listing showing she was really born on the 14th of December 1847 in Vienna, Austria, though the birth was only recorded on the 16th of December 1847. (Figures 9a-b) Even reliable sources like ancestry.com can incorrectly decipher or transcribe handwritten texts. Like her future husband, Barbara was born out of wedlock, though her father, Johann Nepomuk Damhofer (b. 1824), eventually wound up marrying her birth mother, Bibiana Winter (b. 1824).

 

Figure 7. Emil Thomas’ wife, Barbara Damhofer, whose stage name was Betty Damhofer; known to have been born in 1847, her date and place of death are unknown

 

 

Figure 8a. Screen shot of cover page of Emil Thomas and Barbara Damhofer’s 1878 marriage certificate showing incorrectly she was born on the 14th of December 1837

 

 

Figure 8b. First page of Emil Thomas and Barbara Damhofer’s 1878 marriage certificate

 

 

Figure 8c. Second page of Emil Thomas and Barbara Damhofer’s 1878 marriage certificate with the names of the spouses and witnesses

 

 

Figure 9a Cover page of birth register listing for Barbara Damhofer indicating she was born on the 14th of December 1847 in Vienna, Austria and that her parents were Johann Nepomuk Damhofer and Bibiana Winter

 

Figure 9b. Birth register listing for Barbara Damhofer proving she was born on the 14th of December 1847 in Vienna, Austria

 

At the registry office both Emil and Barbara claimed they were “Christian.” This is strange because spouses normally indicated they were either “Roman Catholic” or “Evangelical Lutheran.” Barbara came from a Catholic home and Emil was Evangelical Lutheran; Emil’s mother, as previously stated, was Jewish.

Emil Thomas’s first book, “40 jahre schauspieler. Erinnerungen aus meinem leben,” was published in 1895.

On page 240, Emil talks about his mother (translated):

“Unfortunately, a very hard blow hit me this year [EDITOR’S NOTE: 1878] on the 6th of November. My good mother, whose idol and only son I was, who found in me all her happiness and the right to live, was to be taken from this earth. . .At 7 o’clock in the evening I closed my good mother’s eyes forever and at 8:30 my duty called me to the theater. . .”

Then, on page 266, presumably referring to the year 1879, he writes:

“The sole purpose of a guest performance in Breslau {EDITOR’S NOTE: Wrocław, Poland] was not to collect money and laurels, but mainly to introduce my relatives living there (my father, stepmother, and brothers) to my wife. It was a cheerful, sunny time that we spent very intimately in the family circle.”

The important takeaway is that Emil had a cordial relationship with his birth father and his family. And, according to family accounts, like Jonas’ three other sons, he inherited some money upon his father’s death in 1883.

Unbeknownst to most people, German marriage certificates include a second page with the names and signatures of the spouses and witnesses (i.e., most ancestral researchers fail to scroll to the second page). (see Figure 8c) Hoping that Jonas Bruck might have attended his son’s 1878 marriage to Barbara Damhofer, I discovered he had not.

Further proof that Emil Thomas was considered a member of the extended family comes from another memoir, that of Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960) (Figure 10), Helen Winter’s grandfather. He writes that he considered his father’s half-brother Emil to be one of his uncles.

 

Figure 10. Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960) whose memoir states that Emil Thomas was one of his uncles

 

One of the sources for Emil Thomas’ Wikipedia entry is an obituary written by a fellow actor and playwright in a 1904 volume of “Die Woche” (Figure 11), an illustrated weekly newspaper published in Berlin from 1899 to 1944. The writer of the piece co-authored a very popular German play from the 1930s entitled “White Horse Inn” (The White Horse Inn – Wikipedia). The obituary contains a disappointing lack of information saying merely that Emil Thomas was famous throughout Germany; that he was very vain; and that he was excellent company and enjoyed a good bottle of wine. I suppose worse could be said of someone upon their death.

 

Figure 11. Emil Thomas’ German obituary from “Die Woche” weekly newspaper written by a fellow actor and playwright

 

REFERENCES 

“Emil Thomas (Schauspieler).” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 5 April 2022. Emil Thomas (Schauspieler) – Wikipedia

Kadelburg, G. (1904, September 24). Emil Thomas. Persönliche Erinnerungen. Die Woche, p. 1714-1715. 

Singer, Isidore & Edgar Mels. “Thomas, Emile (Emil Tobias).” Das Geistige Berlin, p. 540. THOMAS, EMILE (EMIL TOBIAS) – JewishEncyclopedia.com

Thomas, Emil. (1895). 40 Jahre Schauspieler: Erinnerungen aus Meinem Leben.

Thomas, Emil. (1904). Ältestes allerältestes.

 

POST 122, POSTSCRIPT: HERTA BRAUER, THE FAMILY CONNECTION TO THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC’S NOTORIOUS DICTATOR, RAFAEL TRUJILLO

Note: This postscript is the result of an unexpected message from a Ms. Kamali Chandler, a lady who hails from the Dominican Republic and whose family were friends with the Brauers when they lived there. In 1947, Herta and her husband were forced to flee the island nation leaving their children behind for a few years. Kamali explains the reason why.

Related Post:

POST 122: HERTA BRAUER, THE FAMILY CONNECTION TO THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC’S NOTORIOUS DICTATOR, RAFAEL TRUJILLO

 

Many of the people I’ve written about left no diaries, journals, letters, or personal accounts that I’ve found, nor were they otherwise renowned so evidence of them might be found on Wikipedia, on the Internet, or in books or articles. Other than proof of their existence or possibly a random obituary or a certificate of a vital event in their lives, which give a sense of where they were at a specific point in time, the motivation for their movements may be unclear. Even where a paper trail of a person’s life exists, often there are unanswered questions. Thus, I’m often left to think about how or why people wound up where they did.

In the case of Herta Brauer, née Stadach (1904-1983) (Figure 1), a relative by marriage and subject of Post 122, the reason why she and she her family came to the Dominican Republic is evident. More is known about Herta Brauer because she was a preeminent figure in dance and ballet in the Dominican Republic and later in Mallorca, Spain.

 

Figure 1. Herta Brauer (1904-1983) with her oldest son, Till Brauer, (1932-2001) in Neubabelsberg, Germany in 1933

 

As I previously discussed at length, the Dominican Republic was one of the few places in the world willing to accept Jews during World War II. In part, the Dominican Republic was willing to take in Jews to have the United States overlook the regime’s mass killing of Haitians living in the Dominican Republic’s northwestern frontier during the so-called “Parsley Massacre” in October 1937. Also, Rafael Trujillo (1891-1961), the island nation’s brutal dictator from 1930 until his assassination in 1961, was known to have been extremely racist so agreed to take in Jews to “whiten” the population.

Even though Herta and Ernst Hanns Brauer (1902-1971) (Figure 2) were Jewish and had gotten married in March 1932 in Berlin, they received a special dispensation from Pope Pius XI to remarry as Catholics when they were living in Rome. It’s possible that the Pope interceded on their behalf to obtain a visa for them to immigrate to the Dominican Republic, a predominantly Catholic country.

 

Figure 2. Ernst Hanns Brauer in Calvia, Mallorca in September, 1967

 

Regardless of how and why Herta Brauer arrived in the Dominican Republic, she managed to become very well established in the country by founding a ballet school there. Quoting what I wrote in Post 122:

“While Herta Brauer was not alone in teaching ballet in Ciudad Trujillo [today: Santo Domingo], through circumstances that are unknown, she was fortunate to meet and obtain the financial support of Flor de Oro Trujillo (1915-1978), Rafael Trujillo’s first-born daughter. According to Francis Pou (one of my informants), Flor de Oro Trujillo was very different than the dictator’s other children. She was not a criminal like her siblings and had a very troubled relationship with her father. She was very liberal, well-educated, and a socialite in Europe. She was married an astonishing nine times and spent the last twelve years of her life in New York, dying there in 1978, reliant on friends for financial support; she’d clearly been disinherited by her family.

Soon after Herta relocated to Ciudad Trujillo she started offering ballet classes in the living room of her house, probably beginning in early 1943. Flor de Oro covered the scholarship expenses for Herta’s pupils, while others apparently covered the cost for ballet slippers, costumes, and tights for regular practices. As in other countries, ballet in the Dominican Republic was born as a pastime of the middle and upper classes. Training sessions are known to have lasted between six and seven hours a day.

It’s hard to imagine that Herta was unaware that she had escaped one totalitarian regime only to be taken in by another. Perhaps her ambition forced her to overlook this uncomfortable truth because, clearly, she could not have opened her academy without the help of Flor de Oro Trujillo. When it did eventually open it was named after her benefactor. This could have been out of gratitude or because she was compelled to identify herself with and contribute to the general atmosphere which paid constant homage to Generalissimo Trujillo.”

Given the roots and connections Herta established in the Dominican Republic including with the Trujillo family, I have long wondered why she and her husband suddenly departed for Puerto Rico in 1947. Absent a chronicle of her life, I assumed I would never learn the reason.

Like similar imponderables, the answer came via one of my readers. Towards the end of January, a lady of Dominican Republic descent, Kamali Chandler, contacted me from New York after she stumbled on Post 122. Following the discovery of my post, Kamali told her mother, Francis Brea, who was very elated. Kamali explained that her mother, also now residing in New York, often chats about and has fond memories of Till Brauer (1932-2001) and Oliver “Chichi” Brauer (b. 1942) (Figure 3), Herta and Hanns Brauer’s two sons. It turns out that Francis Brea was friends with the Brauers, and she recalls Hanns was affectionately known as “Le Monsieur.” Such firsthand accounts and memories of people I write about imbue them with a tangibility that my words alone cannot inspire.

 

Figure 3. Brothers Oliver and Till Brauer in a photo likely taken in Puerto Rico in the 1950s

 

But the story takes on a darker twist. Rafael Trujillo was interested in the Brauers, particularly Herta, for the purpose of opening a ballet school in the Dominican Republic. At some point, however, Trujillo’s interest in Herta became romantic, but his amorous intentions were not reciprocated. Trujillo had a reputation of killing women who rebuffed his advances, so feeling they were no longer safe in the Dominican Republic, Herta and Hanns Brauer fled to Puerto Rico. This must have happened quite suddenly because they left their two sons in the care of Kamali’s grandmother, Altagracio Garo, née Brea. (Figure 4) The youngest son, Oliver born in 1942, was the only Brauer born in the Dominican Republic. Francis Brea’s recollection is that the two boys lived with her family until Oliver was about seven years of age, so for roughly two years until 1949. (Figure 5) As an adult, the older son Till and his family (Figures 6-7) periodically returned to Santo Domingo to reconnect with Kamali’s family and her cousins. They spent summers at Kamali’s uncle’s home, Robinson Brea Garo.

 

Figure 4. Kamali’s grandmother, Altagracio Garo, née Brea (right), later in life with Herta’s daughter by her first marriage, Yutta Maria Münchow; photo was taken in Puerto Rico

 

Figure 5. From left to right, Oliver, Hanns, Herta, and Till Brauer, and a family friend in a photo likely taken in Puerto Rico in the 1950s following the family’s reunification

 

Figure 6. Till Brauer, his wife Aracelis, and their children; the oldest boy “Tillito” is in the middle between his parents

 

Figure 7. Till “Tillito” Brauer as he looks today

 

To remind readers, the Brauers arrived in the Dominican Republic with Herta’s older daughter, Yutta Maria Münchow (1926-2001) (Figure 8), offspring of an earlier marriage. At the time of her mother’s sudden departure, Yutta was in nursing school so also stayed behind (Figures 9a-b) but would eventually leave the Dominican Republic.

 

Figure 8. Yutta Maria Münchow’s (1926-2001) 1941 Dominican Republic arrival document

 

 

Figure 9a. Yutta Maria Münchow’s 1947 Dominican Republic “Application for Duplicate Residence Permit”

 

Figure 9b. 1947 photo of Yutta Maria Münchow’s from her “Application for Duplicate Residence Permit”

 

In closing, the answer to seemingly trivial questions sometimes come from unexpected directions. What makes the explanation so intriguing is that it involves a brutal dictator who took a love interest in one of my relatives, placing her in harm’s way and altering the course of her life.

 

POST 156, POSTSCRIPT: THE ARRIVAL OF TRAIN SERVICE IN RATIBOR AS SEEN ON CONTEMPORARY MAPS

ADDITION IN RED MADE ON 4/3/2024

Note: In this postscript, I discuss the timing and path of construction of the Austrian Ferdinand Northern Railway vis a vis the Wilhelmsbahn Railway, and its likely impact on the family-owned hotel establishment in Ratibor, Prussia, which at least for some time likely benefited from the routing.

 

Related Posts:

POST 155: HISTORY OF THE PROPERTY WHERE THE BRUCK’S “PRINZ VON PREUßEN” HOTEL IN RATIBOR CAME TO BE BUILT

POST 156: THE ARRIVAL OF TRAIN SERVICE IN RATIBOR AS SEEN ON CONTEMPORARY MAPS

 

Multiple of my earlier posts have discussed the family establishment in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, owned by three generations of my family from roughly 1850 until 1926. Based on the evidence I’ve amassed, I’m convinced that my family owned the hotel from the time it was built sometime between 1846 and 1850, and that its construction was tied to the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor which began service there on the 1st of January 1846.

There are at least two reference points that prove the “Prinz von Preußen” was in existence by 1850. First, the hotel is listed in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent: Being A Guide Through Holland, Belgium, Prussia, and Northern Germany, and Along the Rhine from Holland to Switzerland” as a place for people to stay in Ratibor while voyaging between Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland] and Vienna, Austria. (Figures 1a-b) Second, a notice published announced a recital by the noted Austrian composer Johann Strauss II (1825-1899) at the Prinz von Preußen on the 17th of October 1850. (Figure 2) The composer performed at the hotel while on his way to Vienna, then again a month later on the 17th of November 1850 on his way back through. (Figure 3)

 

Figure 1a. Cover of John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent” discussing the “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel

 

Figure 1b. Page of John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent” discussing the “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel

 

Figure 2. Notice for Johann Strauss II’s recital at the “Prinz von Preußen” on the 17th of October 1850

 

Figure 3. Notice for Johann Strauss II’s recital at the “Prinz von Preußen” on the 17th of November 1850

 

Following publication of Post 156, I did further research on the Wilhelmsbahn or Upper Silesian railway. Just to remind readers, the Wilhelmsbahn was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel—Gleiwitz) (today: Wrocław—Opole—Kozle—Gliwice) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand Railway. (Figures 4a-b; 5) Construction of this railway through Ratibor for the first time connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one. 

 

Figure 4a. Upper Silesian Railway Stations from 1842 to 1883

 

Figure 4b. Timetable of the Upper Silesian Railway from Breslau (Wrocław) to Myslowitz (Mysłowice) and back in 1848-49

 

During my research, I stumbled on the following mention of the opening of the railroad in Racibórz: 

“In 1846, the first section of the Wilhelm Railway ((German: Wilhelmsbahn, currently railway line No. 151) connecting Racibórz with Koźle was opened. In Koźle, the line connected with the Upper Silesian Railway ((German: Oberschlesische Eisenbahn) connecting Upper Silesia with Wrocław. In 1847, Wilhelm’s Railway was extended to Bohumín. In the years 1855–1858 further sections of the Wilhelm Railway connecting Racibórz with Katowice through Rybnik (currently railway line No. 140) were opened.”

This obscure reference comes from a report entitled “Road to Rail Potential shift of transport flows” published by the so-called Central Europe TRANS TRITIA. Suffice it to say, that TRITIA is a “European Grouping of Territorial Cooperation” in which three regions of Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic cooperate to improve coordination and planning of freight transport.

This seemingly insignificant mention of the Wilhelmsbahn Railway caused me to reexamine the references I’d consulted earlier related to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway and reconsider the timing and route of its construction. In the process, I discovered I’d left readers a bit hanging as to where exactly the Wilhelmsbahn Railway connected with the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway after it left Ratibor. This, in turn, made me realize the Wilhelmsbahn Railway played a more significant role in the region’s economic development than I’d previously understood and that this no doubt resulted in significantly more business for my family’s hotel in Ratibor. Let me explain.

The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company that existed during the time of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. The main line of this railway was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia, east of Krakau [today: Kraków, Poland]. Bochnia is located on the river Raba in southern Poland, and the salt mine there is the oldest functioning one in Europe, built in the 13th century.

The Ferdinand Northern Railway was financed by Salomon Mayer von Rothschild (1774-1855) and was Austria’s first steam railroad. The first stretches connected small towns outside Vienna, then extended to Vienna in 1838. From there it connected to Lundenberg [today: Břeclav, Czech Republic] (Břeclav – Wikipedia) and Brunn [today: Brno, Czech Republic] in 1839; to Prerau [today: Přerov, Czech Republic] and Olmütz [today: Olomouc, Czech Republic] (Olomouc – Wikipedia) in 1841; to Leipnik [today: Lipník nad Bečvou, Czech Republic] in 1842; and to Ostrau [today: Ostrava, Czech Republic] (Ostrava – Wikipedia) and Oderberg [today: Bohumín, Czech Republic] by 1847. (Figure 5) What I failed to mention in Post 156 is that Oderberg or Bohumín, Czech Republic, as it is known today, is where the  Ferdinand Northern Railway and the Wilhelmsbahn met in 1847. (Figure 6)

 

Figure 5. Railroad route from 1849 with some of the German place names mentioned in the text circled

 

Figure 6. Oderberg (today: Bohumin, Czech Republic), south of Ratibor, where the “Wilhelmsbahn” and the “Ferdinand Northern Railway” met in 1847

 

The Ferdinand Northern Railway never directly reached Kraków or the salt mines in Bochnia. The first rail connection from Vienna to Krakau took place via Oderberg (Bohumín), Ratibor, Kosel, and Myslowitz, and this was provided by the Wilhelmsbahn and the Oberschlesische Eisenbahn (Upper Silesian Railway). The line from Myslowitz to Krakau was built by the Krakau-Oberschlesische Bahn (Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway). Bearing in mind that the towns that are today in the Czech Republic were once part of the Austrian Empire, an entirely Austrian route from Vienna to Krakau did not exist until 1856, nine years after the Ferdinand Northern Railway reached Oderberg (Bohumín) and a full ten years after the Wilhelmsbahn railroad reached Ratibor.

In reviewing the construction timeline of the Ferdinand Northern Railway what I previously failed to fully comprehend is that the Wilhelmsbahn Railway was completed before the Northern Railway’s segment from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau. The significance is that at least for some period Ratibor was an important transit point for people traveling between Vienna and Krakau, and the Bruck’s Hotel would have provided the then-modern amenities voyagers sought. Following completion of the more direct route from Oderberg (Bohumín) to Krakau would have meant that some business was lost, although Ratibor would have continued as a logical way station for people traveling to Breslau, Berlin, and points west from there.

Coincidentally, on the same page as the Prinz von Preußen is mentioned in John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent,” Oderberg and the Kaiser Ferdinand Nordbahn (i.e., Ferdinand Northern Railway) are also discussed. The train coming from Prague to the west connected to the Ferdinand Northern Railway via Olmütz [today: Olomouc, Czech Republic] in Prerau [today: Přerov, Czech Republic]. (Figure 7)

 

Figure 7. Page of John Murray’s 1850 “Hand-Book for Travellers on the Continent” discussing Oderberg and the “Kaiser Ferdinand Nordbahn”

 

REFERENCES

“Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 20 September 2023. Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway – Wikipedia

Interreg Central Europe TRANS TRITIA. Road to rail potential shift of transport flows. March 2020. 9.2.21.-Road-to-rail-potential-shift-of-transport-flows.pdf (interreg-central.eu)

Murray, John (1850). A hand-book for travellers on the continent: being a guide through Holland, Belgium, Prussia, and Northern Germany, and along the Rhine from Holland to Switzerland London. John Murray. A hand-book for travellers on the continent. [1st] [2 issues of the 16th and … : John Murray : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

“Upper Silesian Railway.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 5 July 2023. Upper Silesian Railway – Wikipedia

Weltzel, Augustin (1861). Geschichte der Stadt Ratibor : Weltzel, Augustin : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

“Wilhelmsbahn.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 7 December 2020. Wilhelmsbahn – Wikipedia

 

POST 157, POSTSCRIPT: USING AI TO CONFIRM THE MISIDENTIFICATION OF REINHARD HEYDRICH, “THE BUTCHER OF PRAGUE” IN POSTS 133, PARTS I & II

Note: In this postscript to Post 157, I discuss the evidence I uncovered with the help of two informants that Reinhard Heydrich’s look-alike, Wilhelm Prince von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld, was a member of the Schutzstaffel or SS.

Related Post:

POST 157: USING AI TO CONFIRM THE MISIDENTIFICATION OF REINHARD HEYDRICH, “THE BUTCHER OF PRAGUE” IN POSTS 133, PARTS I & II

 

One of my readers questioned whether Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld (1905-1942), Reinhard Heydrich’s doppelgänger in the group photo taken at Castle Kamenz in Silesia (today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland) in 1936/37, was ever a member of the Schutzstaffel or SS. The implication is that if Wilhelm von Hessen was not a member, he could not have been photographed in an SS uniform at Castle Kamenz, ergo it’s not him. Both the reader who furnished the picture as well as the reader who questioned the identification of Reinhard Heydrich agree that the person is wearing a black SS uniform.

As I very explicitly stated in Post 157, I have no expertise in German military uniforms. Even comparing them to known military outfits of the SS and the Wehrmacht, I’m unable to tell which German military service uniform Wilhelm von Hessen is wearing at the gathering at Castle Kamenz. More on this below.

As to whether Wilhelm von Hessen was a member of the SS, and, if so, when he joined, I turned to two German authorities for help. Let me explain what I’ve learned from them.

At the Berlin State Archives there exists a list of members of the National Socialist German Workers’ Party (German: Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei  or NSDAP), the Nazi Party, who were members of the royal houses. Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld’s name can be found on this roster. (Figure 1)

 

Figure 1. “Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen’s” name among a list of members of the royal houses who belonged to the Nazi Party showing he joined on the 1st of May 1932 and that his Nazi Party number was “1187621”

The unseen column headings from this list of aristocrats who were members of the Nazi Party and the information specific to Wilhelm von Hessen read as follows: 

“Region” (Kurhessen)

“Name” (Prinz Wilhelm von Hessen)

“Date of Birth” (1st of March 1905)

“Member Number” (of the Nazi Party) (1187621)

“Date of Admission” (to the Nazi Party) (1st of May 1932)

“Remarks” (in Prinz Wilhelm’s case, it shows that he died on the 1st of May 1942).

It is known that Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld actually died on the 30th of April 1942 in Gor near Bjeloi in Russia.

Separately, my contacts also found “Prinz von Hessen Wilh.,” as he is referred to, listed in the so-called Dienstalterslisten der SS, the SS seniority list. This is proof that he was indeed a member of the SS.

In the process of determining whether Wilhelm von Hessen belonged to the SS, I learned a trivial but astonishing fact. Of the total 648 high-ranking SS officers (i.e., from Standartenführer (colonel) upwards) in 1938, 58 of them or 8.95% were of aristocratic origin. (A Standartenführer was a Nazi Party paramilitary rank used by the SS and other Nazi paramilitary organizations who commanded a unit equivalent to an army battalion consisting of between 300 and 500 men.) This could explain why several high-ranking Nazis were photographed at Castle Kamenz in 1936/37.

Below, I attach the relevant excerpts from the Dienstalterslisten for the four years, 1934-1937, in which his name appears, and discuss and explain as best I can the information that can be gleaned, including the SS service units he served in.

1934 Dienstaltersliste (Figures 2a-d)

 

Figure 2a. Cover page of the 1934 “Dienstaltersliste”

 

Figure 2b. First page of the 1934 “Dienstaltersliste” with the key to abbreviations

 

Figure 2c. Column headings from the page with “Prinz v. Hessen Wilh.’s” name from the 1934 “Dienstaltersliste”

 

Figure 2d. Line with “Prinz v. Hessen Wilh.’s” name and information

 

The column headings are as follows:

“Consecutive number”

“Surname & first name”

“Service”

“Nazi Party Number 1-500,000”

“Nazi Party Number 500,001-1,800,000”

“Nazi Party Number over 1,800,000”

“SS Number”

“Sturmführer” (Date rank obtained)

“Obersturmführer” (Date rank obtained)

Prinz von Hessen Wilhelm’s party number “1 187 621” is again shown on the SS seniority list, but in a separate column his SS member number, “52 711,” is now indicated. Wilhelm von Hessen joined the SS as a SS-Sturmführer on the 20th of April 1934. Sturmführer was a paramilitary rank of the Nazi Party which began as a title used by the Sturmabteilung (SA) in 1925 and became an actual SA rank in 1928. Translated as “storm leader or assault leader,” the origins of the rank dated to the World War I when the title of Sturmführer came to be used.

In 1934 Prinz von Hessen Wilhelm was a member of the service unit abbreviated as “F. Mo. II/27.” “F.” is short for Führer, while “Mo. Sta.” stands for “Motorstaffel,” or motorized squadron. Thus, it appears that in 1934 he was head of the motor assault team of “II Sturmbann of Standarte 27.” Let me try and explain what this means. Bear in mind I know virtually nothing about the organization of the SS.

The number of soldiers in a motorized squadron is unknown but was possibly only a few men. Standarte was a regimental sized unit of the SS. (more on this below) Sturmbann (Sturmbann – Wikipedia) refers to an “assault unit,” and was a paramilitary unit within the Nazi Party. As previously mentioned, the term originated from German shock troop units used during World War I who were characterized by their aggressive tactics and were often at the forefront of assaults. Putting this together suggests Wilhelm von Hessen was the motorized squadron leader of the second assault unit of Standarte 27.

The 1934 Dienstaltersliste is one source of the information in German Wikipedia on Wilhelm von Hessen’s service unit.

1935 Dienstaltersliste (Figures 3a-d)

 

Figure 3a. Cover page of the 1935 “Dienstaltersliste”

 

Figure 3b. First page of the 1935 “Dienstaltersliste” with the key to abbreviations

 

Figure 3c. Column headings from the page with “Prinz v. Hessen Wilh.’s” name from the 1935 “Dienstaltersliste”

 

Figure 3d. Line with “Prinz v. Hessen Wilh.’s” name and information

 

The number of column headings in the 1935 Dienstaltersliste was expanded to two side-by-side pages. The previously referred to rank of Sturmführer was now referred to as an Untersturmführer. A SS-Untersturmführer was the first commissioned SS officer rank, equivalent to a second lieutenant in other military organizations.

Translated, the left-hand page columns included the following information:

“Consecutive number”

“Surname & first name”

“Epee”

“Ring”

“SA sports badge”

“Reich sports badge”

“Service”

“Nazi Party Number 1-1,800,000”

“Nazi Party Number over 1,800,000”

“SS Number”

“Date of birth”

Several of the columns above refer to orders and decorations awarded during World War I by the German Empire, then later by the Nazis.

The right-hand page columns included the expanded list of SS paramilitary ranks, under which the date the soldier attained that rank is shown:

“Untersturmführer”

“Obersturmführer”

“Hauptsturmführer”

“Sturmbannführer”

“Obersturmbannführer”

“Standartenführer”

“Oberführer”

“Brigadeführer”

“Gruppenführer”

“Obergruppenführer”

From the 1935 Dienstaltersliste, we learn that Wilhelm von Hessen was promoted to an SS-Obersturmführer on the 9th of November 1934. A SS-Obersturmführer was typically a junior company commander in charge of fifty to a hundred men.

Then on the 20th of April 1935 he was promoted to an SS-Hauptsturmführer. This rank was a mid-level commander who had equal seniority to a captain (Hauptmann) in the German Army and the equivalency of captain in foreign armies. (Figure 4)

 

Figure 4. Circled the three SS ranks Wilhelm von Hessen attained, “SS-Untersturmführer,” “SS-Obersturmführer,” and “SS Hauptsturmführer”

 

By 1935 Wilhelm von Hessen was now attached to the “6 Mo. Sta.,” believed to mean that he was then part of the “6 Motor-Standarte.” Again, the number of soldiers in this motorized squadron is unknown. Also unclear is whether the “6 Motor-Standarte” equates to the 6th SS-Standarte.

1936 & 1937 Dienstalterslisten (Figures 5a-d; 6a-d)

 

Figure 5a. Cover page of the 1936 “Dienstaltersliste”

 

Figure 5b. First page of the 1936 “Dienstaltersliste” with the key to abbreviations

 

Figure 5c. Column headings from the page with “Prinz v. Hessen Wilh.’s” name from the 1936 “Dienstaltersliste”

 

Figure 5d. Line with “Prinz v. Hessen Wilh.’s” name and information

 

Figure 6a. Cover page of the 1937 “Dienstaltersliste”

 

Figure 6b. First page of the 1937 “Dienstaltersliste” with the key to abbreviations

 

Figure 6c. Column headings from the page with “Prinz v. Hessen Wilh.’s” name from the 1937 “Dienstaltersliste”

 

Figure 6d. Line with “Prinz v. Hessen Wilh.’s” name and information

 

According to the Dienstalterslisten, Wilhelm von Hessen was assigned to new units in both 1936 and 1937. In 1936, he had a position in the “Stammabt. Bez. 14.” “Stammabt.” stands for “Stammabteilung,” which was a unit of the so-called Allgemeine SS (more on this below) in which men older than 45 years of age or SS members no longer fit for service were grouped together. These “Stammabteilung” were in turn divided into “Bezirke” or districts. Wilhelm von Hessen’s assignment to this organizational unit is puzzling since in 1936 he was only 31 years old and had no known physical disabilities. Perhaps he served in an administrative capacity in this service?

By 1937 Wilhelm von Hessen was no longer with the Stammabt. Bez. 14. but had been reassigned to the SS Abschnitt XXVII. This unit had originally been established in November 1933, but by October 1936 had been reorganized. SS-Abschnitt XXVII was primarily an administrative and organizational unit within the Allgemeine SS. It did not directly engage in major military campaigns or operations, but instead was focused on overseeing SS activities, recruitment, and coordination within its designated area. While the unit was not involved in combat, SS Abschnitt XXVII played an essential role in supporting the Nazi regime and its ideology.

Let me explain two things I mentioned above, namely, the Allgemeine SS and the Standarte.

Both of my informants explained something that has been a source of confusion for me, namely, Wilhelm von Hessen’s membership in the SS while also serving as an officer in the Wehrmacht, the unified armed forces of Nazi Germany from 1935 to 1945. Wilhelm was a member of the so-called “General SS,” or Allgemeine SS which was the administrative and the non-combative part of the SS. This is not to be confused with the Waffen-SS which was the combat branch of the Nazi Party’s paramilitary Schutzstaffel organization.

Additionally, Wilhelm von Hessen apparently joined the Wehrmacht as an officer candidate in 1935 (i.e., “Krad 2” in Eisenach, Germany). Thus, he also embarked on a military career. According to one authority, until the outbreak of war in 1939, it was possible for a German to belong to both the SS and the Wehrmacht.

Supporting this, in Wikipedia, under the discussion about the Allgemeine SS the following sentence is tucked in: “SS members could also hold reserve commissions in the regular military as well as a Nazi Party-political rank.” Thus, as it relates to Wilhelm von Hessen, he could have been a member of the non-combative part of the SS, the Allgemeine SS, and worn an SS uniform, but also had a commission in the Wehrmacht, thus separately worn their outfit. And this seems to be supported by the fact that in the photo of him at Castle Kamenz he is in his black SS uniform but in another photo from the same period he is wearing his Wehrmacht uniform. (Figure 7)

 

Figure 7. Wilhelm von Hessen in his Wehrmacht uniform from a photo taken on the 30th of November 1936 at the wedding of his sister-in-law, Princess Luise von Preußen (1912-1973)

 

Relatedly, another reference in German Wikipedia under Allgemeine SS states the following: “In 1939, the Allgemeine SS reached is pre-war peak with more than 260,000 members. During the second World War (1939-1945), around 60 percent of their members (around 160,000) served in the Wehrmacht (Army, Air Force, Navy) and around 36,000 in the ranks of the Waffen-SS.”

Putting this in context is another quote from Wikipedia under the discussion for the 6th SS-Standarte: “When World War II began in 1939, the Berlin SS regiment slowly began losing its members to regular military service, since mustering Allgemeine-SS personnel were not exempt from conscription.” Quite simply, then, as the war began and as Germany’s fortunes changed, members of the Allgemeine-SS began to be conscripted into the Waffen-SS and the Wehrmacht.

As discussed in Post 157, in the 1936/37 group photo Wilhelm von Hessen is wearing the letter “M” on his collar tab. This is the badge of the Motor-Standarten of the SS. As previously mentioned, according to the Dienstaltersliste der SS for 1935, he was a member of the 6. Motor-Standarte. The SS-Standarte was the primary regimental-sized unit of the Allgemeine-SS. There were 127 SS-Standarten although by 1945 most existed only on paper never reaching their prescribed strength.

The Standarten regiments each had their own number, but were also referred to by other names, such as location, a popular name, or an honorary title. After Hitler became Chancellor of Germany in 1933, the 6th SS-Standarte, for example, adopted the honor title of “Charlottenburg” and often participated in several major Nazi Party rallies held in the German capitol.

From German Wikipedia, I know that Wilhelm fought in WWII as a tank officer (i.e., Captain of the Reserve) and deployed with the 2nd SS Panzer Division in Poland and France, including at Dunkirk; he then fought in Greece and Romania before being killed in the spring of 1942 in Russia. Since the 2nd SS Panzer Division was an armored division of the Waffen-SS, this suggests Wilhelm transitioned to the combat branch of the SS at some point and presumably was a member of the Waffen-SS when he was killed.

In closing, I was able to determine through primary source documents that Wilhelm von Hessen joined the Nazi Party in 1932, the SS in 1934, and was part of the non-combative arm of the SS, the Allgemeine SS, for some period. Simultaneously in 1935, Wilhelm apparently joined the Wehrmacht. However, by the time WWII started in 1939, he was a member of the 2nd SS Panzer Division, one of the armored divisions of the Waffen-SS, suggesting he died fighting for the SS.

None of the new information I obtained and discussed changes my assessment that Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld (1905-1942) is the individual pictured in the group photo taken at Castle Kamenz in 1936/37.

 

 

REFERENCES

“2nd SS Panzer Division Das Reich.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 28 March 2024. 2nd SS Panzer Division Das Reich – Wikipedia

“6th SS-Standarte.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 9 September 2022. 6th SS-Standarte – Wikipedia

“Allgemeine SS.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 24 August 2023. Allgemeine SS – Wikipedia

“Dienstalterslisten der SS.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 10 February 2023. Dienstalterslisten der SS – Wikipedia

“Hauptsturmführer.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 3 February 2024. Hauptsturmführer – Wikipedia

“Obersturmführer.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 4 March 2024. Obersturmführer – Wikipedia

“Standarte (Nazi Germany).” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 29 July 2023. Standarte (Nazi Germany) – Wikipedia

“Sturmführer.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 13 February 2024. Sturmführer – Wikipedia

“Untersturmführer.” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 4 January 2024. Untersturmführer – Wikipedia

“Wilhelm von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld (1905–1942).” Wikipedia, Wikipedia Foundation, 20 January 2024. Wilhelm von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld (1905–1942) – Wikipedia

 

 

POST 157: USING AI TO CONFIRM THE MISIDENTIFICATION OF REINHARD HEYDRICH, “THE BUTCHER OF PRAGUE” IN POSTS 133, PARTS I & II

 

Note: In this post, I discuss the process I went through to confirm that I’d incorrectly identified the sinister Nazi Reinhard Heydrich in a group photo taken in 1936/1937 at Castle Kamenz (Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland). To prove this to my satisfaction, I made use of an AI-powered tool.

Related Posts:

POST 133: “THE BUTCHER OF PRAGUE,” THE STORY BEHIND A UNIQUE PHOTO OF REINHARD HEYDRICH (PART I)

POST 133: “THE BUTCHER OF PRAGUE,” THE STORY BEHIND A UNIQUE PHOTO OF REINHARD HEYDRICH (PART II)

 

An astute reader recently informed me the person I had identified in Posts 133, Parts I & II, as Reinhard Heydrich (Figure 1), the Nazi’s notorious “Butcher of Prague,” in a group photo taken at Castle Kamenz in Silesia (today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland) in 1936/37 (Figure 2) is not him. The picture in question was originally sent to me by a very reliable informant claiming a noted scholar had recognized Reinhard.

 

Figure 1. The individual in the group photo taken at Castle Kamenz (today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland) in 1936/37 who I mistakenly identified as the notorious Nazi henchman Reinhard Heydrich

 

Figure 2. The group photo taken at Castle Kamenz (today: Kamieniec Ząbkowicki, Poland) in 1936/37

 

The German gentleman who questioned the identification is a physics teacher in Dresden with an avid interest in history, particularly German military history up to 1918. The man grew up in Gotha in the former German Democratic Republic or East Germany. According to the reader, Reinhard Heydrich’s doppelgänger is Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal-Barchfeld (1905-1942), and he sent me a link to a photo of him in his military ensemble as well as his bio. (Figure 3) He claims that in the group picture Wilhelm von Hessen, who was head of a “Motor-Sturmbann” of the SS-Standarte 27, is seen wearing his military uniform with the collar tabs “M” for Motor-Sturmbann; even on the highest resolution picture of this gathering, I have difficulty distinguishing the collar tabs.

 

Figure 3. The photo the amateur historian from Dresden sent of Wilhelm Prinz von Hessen-Philippsthal- Barchfeld (1905-1942) who is Reinhard Heydrich’s doppelgänger

 

Since this is my blog the responsibility for fact checking the accuracy of the information I publish in my posts ultimately rests on my shoulders. Given the lengths I’ve gone to caution readers about cloning vital data from other people’s ancestral trees without sourcing the primary documents and verifying their accuracy, I decided I needed to take a similarly rigorous approach in determining whether the amateur historian is accurate.

Let me explain to readers who Wilhelm von Hessen was and whether it is even conceivable he could have been photographed at Castle Kamenz at the time the picture was taken. In 1936/37 Castle Kamenz was owned by Friedrich Heinrich von Preußen (1874-1940) (Figure 4) shown elegantly attired and seated in the front row of the group picture, second from the left. His younger brother was Friedrich Wilhelm von Preussen (1880-1925) (Figure 5) who obviously was not in attendance since he had died prematurely about a dozen years earlier.

 

Figure 4. Friedrich Heinrich von Preußen (1874-1940), owner of Castle Kamenz at the time the 1936/37 photo was taken

 

Figure 5. Friedrich Wilhelm von Preußen (1880-1925), Friedrich Heinrich’s older brother who predeceased him

 

Friedrich Wilhelm was a member of the House of Hohenzollern and a great-grandson of King Frederick William III of Prussia. He was married to Princess Agatha of Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst from Ratibor & Corvey (1888-1960) (Figure 6), seated as a widow in the center of the front row (Figure 7); together they had four daughters. (Figure 8) The third daughter, Princess Marianne von Preußen (1913-1983) was married to Wilhelm von Hessen. Thus, based on family connections, it is entirely plausible that he attended the family gathering at Castle Kamenz in 1936/37.

 

Figure 6. Friedrich Wilhelm von Preußen and his wife Agatha of Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst from Ratibor & Corvey (1888-1960) around the time they got married surrounded by family

 

Figure 7. The widow Agatha of Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst at the time the 1936/37 photo was taken

 

Figure 8. Friedrich Heinrich von Preußen, Princess Agatha of Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst, and their four daughters as children

 

Obviously, the individuals in attendance at the gathering at Castle Kamenz are unidentified though some are familiar to the reader who furnished the group picture. I’m not entirely positive but think Princess Marianne von Preußen is standing in the second row, the third person from the left dressed in white. Though Friedrich Wilhelm and Princess Agatha’s four daughters were born between 1911 and 1919, as young women they are often difficult to tell apart.

The reader who shared the original photo included side-by-side photos of Reinhard Heydrich and the man purported to be him in the group picture. (Figure 9) Given that Heydrich’s identity had putatively been confirmed, I did not compare the images as carefully as I should have when writing Posts 133, Parts I & II. Had I done so initially, I might have observed a few things that later triggered some doubts. First, I noticed in the picture that is assuredly of Heydrich that he had a narrower face, longer nose, and bigger ears than the individual on the right. Second, and this is much more impressionistic, the person in the group picture is broadly smiling, an attribute I would hardly associate with as sadistic an individual as Heydrich.

 

Figure 9. Reinhard Heydrich (left) and his doppelgänger

 

Trained as an archaeologist steeped in the scientific method, I was still not convinced the person in the group picture was Wilhelm von Hessen. Because the link sent to me by the amateur historian depicting Wilhelm in his military uniform was not conclusive (see Figure 3), I went in search of other pictures of him. Because Wilhelm came from a royal family and married into another royal family, I had the good fortune to find several of them on the Internet and in my own collection of photos.

The first high quality picture I found of Wilhelm von Hessen was taken at the marriage of one of his wife’s sisters, Princess Luise von Preußen (1912-1973) to Moritz Richard Bruno Wilhelm Schmaltz (1901-1983) on the 30th of November 1936, possibly at Castle Kamenz. (Figure 10) It shows Princess Agatha, her four daughters, three sons-in-law, and one grandson. On the very far right in this picture can be seen Princess Marianne von Preußen (1913-1983) and her husband Wilhelm von Hessen. Regrettably, comparing this image of Wilhelm von Hessen to the group photo again yields no definitive answer to the naked eye as to whether it was Wilhelm.

 

Figure 10. From left to right: unidentified person (possibly Princess Marie’s husband, Aloys Rudolf Hug (1885-1972)), Princess Elisabeth von Preußen (1919-1961), Princess Agathe, unidentified grandson, Princess Luise von Preußen (1912-1973), her husband Wilhelm Schmaltz (1901-1983), Princess Marie von Preußen (1911-2005), Princess Marianne von Preußen (1913-1983), and her husband Prince Wilhelm von Hessen (1905-1942) on the 30th of November 1936

 

My Internet search continued. I found an undated group photo of Wilhelm von Hessen including him and his four siblings. (Figure 11) He is pictured fourth from the left but once more the evidence is not clear cut that he is the person in the group picture.

 

Figure 11. An undated picture of Wilhelm von Hessen with his four siblings in civilian clothes

 

Another headshot of Wilhelm von Hessen in his military uniform, also undated, was not conclusive. (Figure 12)

 

Figure 12. An undated photo of Wilhelm von Hessen in his military uniform

 

Finally, I had the good fortune to find in Geni a high-quality picture of Marianne von Preußen and Wilhelm von Hessen, possibly from around the time they were married on the 30th of January 1933 (Figure 13); at the time, Marianne would have been 20 years old and Wilhelm 28 years, the approximate ages they appear to be in the picture. A simple visual comparison of this image of Wilhelm to the person in the group photo left me fairly convinced they were the same person. I asked several friends who I know from previous experience are adept with visual comparisons, and they agree. Unfortunately, the reader who originally sent me the group photo disagrees.

 

Figure 13. Wilhelm von Hessen and his wife Princess Marianne von Preußen possibly around the time they were married on the 30th of January 1933

 

While I have no expertise in this area, both readers agree the man in the 1936/37 group picture is wearing a Schutzstaffel or SS uniform. However, the informant who sent the group photo claims that Wilhelm von Hessen did not switch from the Wehrmacht to the SS (i.e., German soldiers could not be members of both units simultaneously) until right before the Nazi invasion of France on the 10th of May 1940. Unfortunately, I can’t independently verify when von Hessen joined the SS. On his 30th of November 1936 photo, Wilhelm von Hessen is supposedly wearing a Wehrmacht uniform. (Figure 14) Based on this apparent discrepancy, I theorize the group photo was taken in late 1936 or in 1937 after the November 1936 marriage, by which time Wilhelm von Hessen was then a member of the SS.

 

Figure 14. November 1936 photo of Wilhelm von Hessen and Princess Marianne von Preußen at Princess Luise’s marriage in his Wehrmacht military uniform

 

Having convinced myself that the amateur historian is correct that the person in the 1936/37 group picture is not Reinhard Heydrich but Wilhelm von Hessen, as a lark I decided to see whether I could find an artificial intelligence (AI) application which could strengthen my case. I found an AI-powered tool which allows me to do precisely what I was looking to do, namely, compare two faces to measure similarity. It is called “FaceShape” and below is the link to this tool: 

https://www.faceshape.com/face-compare

I’m admittedly not adept at using new technology, so the attraction of FaceShape is that it’s supremely easy to use.

Juxtaposing the images of Reinhard Heydrich and that of the person in the group photo originally sent by the first reader yields a low probability of only 27.04% that they are the same individual. (Figure 15) By comparison when I compare the known image of Wilhelm von Hessen from his sister-in-law Princess Luise’s 1936 marriage to the person in the group photo, FaceShape claims a 100% probability they are the same person. (Figure 16) Another comparison that yielded a 100% match was Wilhelm von Hessen’s photo from his sister-in-law’s marriage to one of him in his military uniform. (Figure 17) Readers can see the results of the various other images I contrasted. (Figures 18-20)

 

Figure 15. FaceShape comparison of Reinhard Heydrich and his doppelgänger showing only a 27.04% likelihood they are the same person

 

Figure 16. FaceShape comparison of a known photo of Wilhelm von Hessen to the person in the group picture indicating a 100% probability they are the same person

 

 

Figure 17. Another FaceShape comparison of two known images of Wilhelm von Hessen suggesting a 100% probability they are the same person

 

Figure 18. FaceShape contrast of two known images of Wilhelm von Hessen indicating a 92.27% probability they are the same person

 

Figure 19. FaceShape contrast of two known images of Wilhelm von Hessen indicating an 83.21% probability they are the same person

 

Figure 20. FaceShape contrast of two known images of Wilhelm von Hessen indicating a 63.71% probability they are the same person

 

Comparing the photos I found of Wilhelm von Hessen to one another, then to the person in the group picture from 1936/37, sets my mind at ease that it is indeed Wilhelm von Hessen. However, I want to be very clear with readers that FaceShape is not perfect. Based on some of the images I juxtaposed, the application obviously does not work well with poor resolution images; where the person in question is partially blocked by another individual; where siblings are involved that resemble one another or are of similar age; when known pictures of the same person are from earlier in life vs. later in life; or in distinguishing gender.

In closing, I would merely say that I consider FaceShape or similar AI-powered applications to be one tool in an arsenal that genealogists can use to further one’s research and possibly resolve thorny identification questions. It clearly requires human interpretation after the tool is applied to consider the question of whether the results are logical and make sense. While I may not have convinced the original reader that Reinhard Heydrich is not in the group photo taken at Castle Kamenz, I have proven to my satisfaction the person in question is Wilhelm von Hessen, not Heydrich.

POST 156: THE ARRIVAL OF TRAIN SERVICE IN RATIBOR (RACIBÓRZ, POLAND) IN 1846 AS SEEN ON CONTEMPORARY MAPS

 

Note: A page from an 1845 book by Johann Knie translated by one of my cousins discussing trade and commerce in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland) at the time includes a discussion of the regional railway companies involved and the route by which the train arrived in town. The places mentioned provide an opportunity for me to introduce unfamiliar readers to the Meyers Gazetteer, a compilation of German Empire (1871-1918) place names and maps, to better visualize things.

It doesn’t come naturally to me to be curious. My parents were not patient people who would encourage nor answer an endless stream of innocent queries. This line of questioning was quickly squelched. I admire people to whom this trait comes instinctively, who grew up in a more nurturing and cerebral environment. This may explain why I go into more detail on matters of historical context than readers may be interested in knowing. Readers can decide for themselves how much of a topic they want to learn about.

With the above as backdrop, I want to discuss one valuable resource I stumbled upon while doing my ancestral research, the so-called Meyers Gazetteer. Various references to it can be found on the Internet, including links to the database on ancestry.com and familysearch.org. Consequently, I hesitated to write a post about it. However, because I so frequently find myself returning to this compilation of German Empire (1871-1918) place names and maps, it occurred to me it might be valuable for others unfamiliar with this website to be aware of it. In this post I’ve chosen to illustrate using the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor in January 1846 as an example a potential use of the historic maps in the Meyers Gazetteer to better visualize the placement of the railroad; this is done in conjunction with contemporary Google maps.

I’ve previously explained to readers that most of Silesia (Figure 1) where my immediate family hails from is no longer part of Germany. Most of Silesia was given to Poland as compensation after WWII (Figure 2) following Poland’s loss of a much larger swath of land to the USSR in then-eastern Poland, land that is today part of the Ukraine. With Poland’s acquisition of German Silesia, the German town names were all changed to Polish place names that often make it difficult to locate the former German towns on present-day maps. This is where the Meyers Gazetteer is inordinately useful if the former German town name can be found in the database.

 

Figure 1. General map of Silesia when it was part of the state of Prussia

 

Figure 2. Map showing the parts of Upper Silesia given to Poland in 1921 and then after WWII

 

The idea for this post came to me recently after asking one of my fourth cousins, Helen Winter, nee Renshaw (Figure 3) from Wolverhampton, England, if she could briefly explain to me the contents of one page from an 1845 book by Johann Knie talking about Ratibor. The text is printed in Fraktur, Black Lettering, that Helen has gained some aptitude reading of late. (Figure 4)

 

Figure 3. My fourth cousin Helen Winter, née Renshaw in Attingham Park in Wolverhampton in 2023

 

Figure 4. Page from Johann Knie’s 1845 book written in Fraktur translated for me by my Helen Winter discussing trade and commerce in Ratibor at the time and the route by which the train arrived in town

 

I did not specifically ask for a transcription nor translation. On my own, I figured out the text addressed primarily trade and commerce in Ratibor in around 1845 so felt a summary would be adequate for my purposes. However because Helen took it as an intellectual challenge, an exquisitely done transcription and translation is what I received. And I’m thrilled Helen provided this because unexpectedly part of the text discussed the route by which the railway arrived in Ratibor and the various regional railway companies involved in its construction.

Because multiple German town names were mentioned and I was having trouble visualizing the route, I turned to the Meyers Orts- und Verkehrs-Lexikon des Deutschen Reichs, the “Meyers Geographical and Commercial Gazetteer of the German Empire.” As ancestry.com points out “This gazetteer of the German Empire is the gazetteer to use to locate place names in German research. It was originally compiled in 1912. This gazetteer is the gazetteer to use because it includes all areas that were part of the pre-World War I German Empire. Gazetteers published after WWI may not include parts of the Empire that were lost to bordering countries. Overall, this gazetteer includes more than 210,000 cities, towns, hamlets, villages, etc.”

They further note that “Gazetteers are very important to use when doing family history research. They not only help you pinpoint a specific place and associate them with the jurisdictions to which they belong, but they can also provide interesting facts about the community and help you to know where to look for additional records. For example, from Meyers Orts you may learn about the size of the town, if there was a post office, where the nearest train station was located, and where the civil registration office was located.”

The meyersgaz.org website, the portal I primarily use for searching German Empire town names, further remarks: “This is the most important of all German gazetteers. The goal of the Meyer’s compilers was to list every place name in the German Empire (1871-1918). It gives the location, i.e. the state and other jurisdictions, where the civil registry office was and parishes if that town had them. It also gives lots of other information about each place. The only drawback to Meyer’s is that if a town did not have a parish, it does not tell where the parish was, making reference to other works necessary.”

On the homepage of meyersgaz.org they note you’ll find a search box in which you type the name of your place using the following conventions: 

  • You can use a wildcard * (an asterisk) in your search. For example, “*gheim” will return “Balgheim, Bergheim, Bietigheim, Billigheim” and anything else that ends in “gheim.”
  • You can type only the beginning of a name and it will return all places that begin with those letters. For example, “Neu” will return “Neu Abbau, Neu Abschwangen, Neuacker, Neuafrika,” etc.
  • You do not need to include umlauts; “Munchen” and “München” will return “München.” You can type umlauts if you wish, but you should not expand umlauts, e.g. “ü” as “ue,” as that will return no hits. 

A list of identically named places will appear within different jurisdictions, allowing you to identify the town you’re interested in. 

As meyersgaz.org further notes, on the “Entry” page the following will be found: 

  • You will see the name of your town and a menu that includes the following items: Entry, Map, Ecclesiastical, Related, Email, and Feedback.
  • You will see the entry as it appears in Meyer’s, the extraction of the entry, the explanation of the extraction, and a map. The extractions include and are primarily limited to jurisdiction and parish information. The explanations are helpful for those who do not speak German or are not familiar with the old jurisdictions. For example, you will learn what Kreis, Bezirkskommando, and Landgericht mean.
  • By clicking on “View entry on PDF of the original page,” you can see the entire page on which the entry appears in the original gazetteer.
  • Click on “Show previous and next entry” to see the previous and following entries. If there was a correction in the Meyer’s addendum, this will also be noted. 

Meyersgaz.org remarks that by clicking on “Map” in the menu or on the map itself, additional information can be found: 

  • You will now see your town on the old Karte des deutschen Reiches. This set of maps was produced during the time of the German Empire and so corresponds chronologically to Meyer’s.
  • You can zoom in and out and the maps can be moved around with the mouse, so you can easily extend the search further around the main town.
  • If you click on the words “Toggle Historical Map” in the upper right-hand corner, you can switch to Google Maps. This is especially helpful if you are searching in Poland or other areas of the former German Empire that are now in other countries. This is because you can get the current, i.e. non-German, name of the town.
  • If you hover on “Toggle Historical Map,” you will see a menu. If you click on the menu items, you will see pins appear on the map that correspond to what you have chosen, either Jurisdiction (all places where other jurisdictions are given, such as Kreis, Bezirkskommando, and Landgericht that are included in the entry), surrounding Standesämter (civil registry offices), Catholic parishes, Protestant parishes, or Jewish synagogues. This will help you determine the location of the nearest parishes, etc., within a 20-mile radius, should you need to do an area search. You can also click on the pins and the names of corresponding towns will appear.
  • You may also see a map with a large red circle instead of a pin. This means that the place has not been geocoded yet and a specific place on the map has not been identified, but it falls within the area of the red circle. 

Interested readers are encouraged to access meyersgaz.org website and try out the site for themselves. The maps have allowed me to track down the location of German towns now located in Poland I would otherwise have had great difficulty finding. With respect to the ensuing discussion, I will partially illustrate this using the arrival of the railroad in Ratibor in 1846. I would add that my interest in the coming of train service to Ratibor is related to when the family establishment in Ratibor, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, was constructed; I believe the two events are closely interconnected and that the family enterprise opened in 1846 or soon thereafter. 

Helen Winter’s German transcription of the page from Johann Knie’s 1845 book about the route by which the railroad arrived in Ratibor is as follows: 

Die meist schlechte Beschaffenheit der von hier aus führenden Strassen wirkt hemmend auf den Landhandel, namentlich auf den Transito-Verkehr. Um so wichtiger muss für Ratibor die gelungene Anlegung der gleich anfangs erwänten Wilhelms Eisenbahn werden, da sie die Verbindung bilden wird, zwischen der Oberschlesien, oder Breslau-Krakauer Eisenbahn u[nd] der österreichischen von Wien nach Krakau führenden Ferdinands-Rorhbahn, sodass Ratibor die natürliche Zwischenstation alles Personen- und Güter-Verkehrs auf der Eisenbahnlinie von Breslau nach Wien sein wird. Das Privilegium der Bahn ist in der preuss[ische] Gesetz[es]S[ammlung] für 1844, Seite 127-146 nachzulesen. Ihre Entstehung verdankt dieses Unternehmen den Oberschlesien, welche seit 1840 in den öffentlichen Blättern, dann durch Gründung eines Aktien-Bereins dahin strebten, die oberschlesische oder breslaukrakauer Eisenbahn-Gesellschaft auf der Unrichtigkeit des erst gewählten Traktus von Oppeln über Malapane [?? ic ??] nach der russische Grenze, aufmerksam zu machen u[nd] den Bemühungen des königl[iches] Regierungs-Presidenten Grafen Pückler auch gelungen, die oberschlesische Bahngesellschaft zu dem Entschlusse zu bestimmen, von Oppeln aus in der Richtung von Kandrzin bis Kosel u[nd] erst von da in östlicher Richtung über Gleiwitz nach Krakau zu bauen, dadurch wurde es möglich, Kandrzin bei Kosel auch als Anfangspunkt für die Wilhelms-Eisenbahn zu gewinnen. Die Bahn geht von Kandrzin rechts der Oder aufwärts bis Ratibor u[nd] hier mittelst der Stromǔberbrückung zu den links zwischen der Oder u[nd] der Stadt gelegenen Bahnhofe. Diese erste Bahnstrecke beträgt 3 7/8 M[eilen]; ihre Fortsetzung am linken Ober-Ufer bis zu dem wahrscheinlichebn End[gangspunkte] und berübergangspunkte 3 3/8 M[eilen]. Die Erdarbeiten zwischen Kandrzin u[nd] Ratibor sind beinahe gänzlich [EDITOR’S NOTE: gönzlich is, I think, a misprint], die bis Oderberg zum grossen Theil vollendet. Der Brückenbau wird mit allem Nachdruck betrieben; bereits sind die meisten Kammarbeiten vollendet. Die Schwellen sind sämmtlich an der Bahn 30,000 Ctnr. englische Schienen seit dem 1[rste] September 1844 noch mit niederem Eingangszoll beschafft u[nd] der bei schles[ischen] Hütten bestellte Uebrrest grösstenteils auch schon geliefert; so das bei günstiger Witterung die Bahn bis Oktober 1845 wird befahren werden können. Der Bahnhof ist zwischen Oder u[nd] Stadt auf der, für Entwickelung des Verkehrs günstigsten Stelle errichtet u[nd] eilt seine Vollendung ebenfalls entgegen. Die Stadt gabt dazu 15 Morg[en] u[nd] zur Bahnlinie auf dem 3/8 Meilen langen, stäbtischen Terrain ebenfalls circa 10 Morg[en]- Land[es] , welches ein Opfer von 7000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er] erheischte. Die Abbrechung eines Hauses u[nd] die Erwerdung des zu mehreren Strassen erforberlichen Terrains, so wie der Ausbau dieser Strassen wird der Stadt eben so viel kosten. Die Stadtverordneten-Bersammlung hat nicht angestanden diese Opfer im wohlerwogenen Interessender Kommune dem Direktorium der W[ilhelm] B[ahn] nicht nur zu bringen, sondern selbst anzubieten, weil nur dadurch die Gesellschaft bewogen worden ist, den Baufond um mehr als 150,000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er] zu erhöhen, um hier bei der Stadt vom rechten auf das linke Oberufer überzugehen u[nd] den Bahnhof an den Stadtmauern erbauern zu können, wärend derselber sonst rechts der Oder, fast 1/2 Meile von hier, erbaut worden wäre. Der Anschluss an die Nordbahn erfolgt dicht bei Oderberg, für die nächsten Jahre mittelst gewöhnlichen Fuhrwerkes; dann aber mittelst Zweiges der Nordbahn von circa 800 Ruth[e] Das Anlage-Kapital für die ganze Wilhelm [Bahn] beträgt statutenmässig 1,200,000 R[eichs]t[ha]l[er]. 

Below is the translation of the above text with footnotes about the various railway companies involved in construction of the railroad in and around Ratibor; Prussian units of measure; and Prussian currency: 

“The mostly poor condition of the roads leading from here has an inhibiting effect on overland trade, especially on transit traffic. It must be all the more important for Ratibor that the connecting route, projected at the very beginning of the Wilhelms-Eisenbahn [Wilhelmsbahn (A) or William Railway] should be successfully completed, between Upper Silesia, or the Breslau-Krakauer (Wrocław-Kraków) Railway (B), and the Austrian route from Vienna along the Ferdinands-Nordbahn [Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway (C)], so that Ratibor will become the natural connecting station for all passengers and goods traffic on the train lines between Breslau and Vienna. (Figure 5) The grant to the Railway is available to read at pages 127 to 146 of the Prussische Gesetzesammlung [Prussian Law Gazette] for 1844. That Company owes its existence to the above named company, which, firstly in the public newspapers, and then by founding a stock corporation, convinced the Upper Silesian, or Breslau-Krakow Railway Company [EDITOR’S NOTE: Upper Silesian Railway Company], of how wrong the originally chosen route, from Oppeln via Malapane (Figure 6) to the Russian border, would have been; the efforts by the royally appointed President of the government, Count Pückler, also succeeded in persuading the Upper Silesian Railway Company to reach the decision to build the line from Oppeln, in the direction of Kandrzin as far as Kosel (Figure 7) and, only from that point, in an easterly direction via Gleiwitz to Krakow, which would make it possible to use Kandrzin, near Kosel, as a starting point for the William Railway. (Figure 8) The railway route goes from Kandrzin, to the right of the Oder, up to Ratibor [EDITOR’S NOTE: meaning upriver as the Oder River flows generally south to north] and here, by means of a bridge across the river, to the station, which is situated on the left bank, between the Oder and the city. This initial railway track is 2 7/8 miles long (D). Its continuation along the upper left bank, up to the probable end of the track and upper crossing point is 3 3/8 miles. The earth works between Kandrzin and Ratibor are now entirely, and those at Oderberg for the most part, completed. The bridge construction is being pursued vigorously; already most of the work on the crest is complete. The sleepers are all on the track; 30,000 Ctnr. (E) of English rails have been procured since 1st September 1844, at a low rate of import duty and most of the remainder, ordered from the foundries of Silesia, have already been delivered; so that, allowing for reasonable weather, the railway can come into use by October 1845. [EDITOR’S NOTE: Train service commenced on the 1st of January 1846] The station, which was being built between the Oder and the city in a location that would facilitate the development of traffic, is also fast approaching completion. The city gave 15 acres of land for the station, and around 10 acres for the railway line on the 3/8 mile long, flat terrain, all of which required the sacrifice of 7,000 Reichsthaler. The City Council did not hesitate, in the interest of the public good, to take some of the financial burden on themselves, rather than expecting the Directors of the William Railway to bear the whole, as this was the only way in which the company could be persuaded to increase the building fund by more than 150,000 Reichsthaler (F), in order that the site of the station could be changed from the right to the left upper bank and that it could be built over the city walls, whereas it would otherwise have been built to the right of the Oder, more than a mile from here. The connection to the Northern Railway will take place close to Oderberg (G) (Figure 9), for the next few years by means of a conventional carriage, then by means of a branch line of the Northern Railway from circa 800 Rods (H) [EDITOR’S NOTE: there seems to be a bit missing in the copy of the book here]. The capital budget for the whole William Railway is fixed by statute at 1,200,000 Reichsthaler.” 

(A) The Wilhelmsbahn or William Railway was a private railway company in Prussia. It was founded in 1844 in Ratibor in Upper Silesia to connect the Upper Silesian Railway (Breslau—Oppeln—Kosel– Gleiwitz (Wroclaw—Opole— Koźle—Gliwice)) with the Austrian Emperor Ferdinand’s Railway. The name referred to Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, later the German Emperor Wilhelm I. For the first time, the railway line connected the Austrian railway network with the Prussian one. 

(B) Refers to the Upper Silesian Railway Company. In 1842, the Upper Silesian Railway Company, licensed since 1839, opened the first two sections of its main line: Breslau (Wrocław, Poland) to Ohlau (Oława, Poland) (Figure 10) on the 22nd of May and Ohlau (Oława, Poland) to Brieg (Brzeg, Poland) (Figure 11) in August. These are the oldest railway sections of present-day Poland. Step by step the Upper Silesian Railway (Oberschlesische Eisenbahn, OSE) line was extended, in 1846 connecting Katowice. In 1847 Myslowitz (Mysłowice, Poland) at the border of Austrian Galicia was reached and the connection to Kraków and Upper Silesian Railway complete. 

(C) The Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway was a railway company during the time of the Austrian Empire. Its main line was intended to connect Vienna with the salt mines in Bochnia near Kraków. The name is still used today in referring to several railway lines formerly operated by that company. 

(D) The distances in miles in the text refer to Prussian miles. One Prussian mile equates to 4.66 U.S. miles or 7.5 kilometers. 

(E) “Ctnr.” is the abbreviation for a Prussian “Centner.” A Prussian Centner equates to 113.43 American pounds or 51.448 kilograms. The metric Zentner used today is exactly 50 kilograms or 110.23 American pounds. 

(F) Abbreviated “Rtl.,” this refers to a Prussian Reichsthaler. The Reichsthaler was a standard thaler silver coin introduced by the Holy Roman Empire in 1566 for use in all German states, minted in various versions for the next 300 years, and containing 25–26 grams fine silver. 

(G) According to Johann Knie, the Wilhelmsbahn connected to the Emperor Ferdinand Northern Railway near Oderberg, shown to the southeast of Ratibor in Figure 9. 

(H) The Prussian Ruthe or rod was 12 feet or 3.766 meters.

 

Figure 5. A contemporary Google map showing the circled location of Racibórz (Ratibor) relative to Wrocław (Breslau), Kraków (Krakau), Opole (Oppeln), and Vienna

 

Figure 6. Meyers Gazetteer map of Malapane [today: Ozimek, Poland]
Figure 7. Meyers Gazetteer map showing relative location of Kandrzin [today: Kędzierzyn-Koźle, Poland] to Cosel (Kosel) [today: Koźle, Poland]

Figure 8. A contemporary Google map showing the modern-day Polish place names discussed in Johann Knie’s text; the Wilhelmsbahn route went from modern-day Kędzierzyn-Koźle, Poland [Prussian: Kosel-Cosel] to Racibórz (Ratibor)
 

Figure 9. Railway map of Germany and surrounding countries in 1849; Oderberg (abbreviated “Oderbg.”) is where the Wilhelmsbahn and Northern Railway eventually connected southeast of Ratibor

 

Figure 10. Meyers Gazetteer map of Ohlau [today: Oława, Poland]

Figure 11. Meyers Gazetteer map of Brieg [today: Brzeg, Poland]
 

It is clear from Johann Knie’s 1845 book that, absent Count Pückler’s intervention, the Breslau-Krakauer (Wrocław-Kraków) Railway, that’s to say the Upper Silesian Railway Company, intended to bypass Ratibor in its construction of the railway into Poland. The passage refers to an easterly route from Breslau (Wrocław) to Oppeln (Opole) to a place called Malapane (today: Ozimek) toward Russia which Count Pückler was able to dissuade the Upper Silesian Railway Company from taking. He apparently also convinced the Upper Silesian Railway Company to connect Breslau (Wrocław) to Krakau (Kraków) via Oppeln (Opole), Kosel (also written Cosel; Koźle), Gleiwitz (Gliwice), and Katowice. This was critical because at a place called Kandrzin, just outside present-day Koźle, the Wilhelmsbahn or William Railroad was then able to connect their railway line to the Upper Silesian Railway. Thus, railway passengers could save time when traveling between Breslau and Vienna by avoiding Krakau. We also learn that Ratibor’s City Council donated land and money to offset part of the William Railroad’s construction cost. From Kosel to Ratibor, the tracks ran along the right or east bank of the Oder, then crossed the river near Ratibor via a bridge to the railway station located on the west or left bank of the Oder River, interestingly built over the city walls according to Johann Knie’s text.

In closing I would simply say that the maps and plans in Meyers Gazetteer in combination with contemporary Google maps provide the necessary overview for visualizing how important it was for the small town of Ratibor in the mid-1840s to ensure the railroad passed through town. It enabled the town’s economic expansion and led to the construction of the Bruck’s Hotel sometime between 1846 and 1850.

REFERENCES

Knie, Johann G. (1845). Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken, Städte und andern Orte der Königl. Preuß. Provinz Schlesien.

Alphabetisch-statistisch-topographische Uebersicht der Dörfer, Flecken … – Johann G. Knie – Google Books